


Losing My Mind Because I Find You In It

by PenzyRome



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: BC I SAY SO, Cake, Cats. lots of cats., F/F, Flowers, M/M, all that good good stuff, color symbolism, crutchie and davey and sarah and spot are an actual squad, hoooooo boy here we fuckin go, ill add more tags as we go along, jack and davey are exes who did NOT end well, jack and race are getting married! i cannot guarantee that it will go poorly or well!, kath is a useless lesbian what else is new, sprace is like. minimal and a Thing Of The Past in this, there shall be angst... there shall be anger..., wedding planner!davey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-04-27 14:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14427135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenzyRome/pseuds/PenzyRome
Summary: Jack is happy. He has everything he ever wanted. He swears to god that he's happy with his career and his fiancé and everything  in his life that turned out perfect.David wanted a certain set of things in college, but he has none of them. In college, he was poised to jump into a successful scientific career, he had a long-time boyfriend whom he loved dearly, and he had some semblance of order. Now, he has absolutely none of that, but he's happy with his life of planning weddings and loving his friends and living alone with his cats.And of course, David hopes that Jack sees how great he's doing and feels bad for how they ended. And of course, Jack feels bad. But they're never going to see each other again, so it won't be a problem.Until David is hired to plan Jack's wedding. Then things get... messy.





	1. I'll Admit That I Didn't Plan On Seeing You Again

**Author's Note:**

> "wait you never mentioned--" "i know just read it"

David blamed his sister’s pollen allergy. It was the fault of Sarah’s allergies that he’d had to pick up flowers for Katherine and Sarah’s anniversary, and that the florist had commented that he had an eye for color, and that David had then shown the florist some of his photography, and that he had been called in last minute as a substitute for the florist’s brother’s wedding photographer, and that now, five years later, he was the most renowned wedding planner-designer in New York City, if one could be renowned for that.

He was a MIT graduate, for floral arrangements’ sake. How the  _ fuck  _ did he end up here?

(Well, that was an easy question. He was a sap, he loved seeing other people happy, and he  _ loved _ making things pretty. Plus, he was making way more money than he would have as a on-and-off intern for whoever would let him tote coffee around and listen to them talk about biochemistry. So yes, he loved his life. He wished he hadn’t spent so much on tuition for four years of his life, but he loved where he was.)

And yes, perhaps his father was a little disappointed. When your son was proclaimed a prodigy at age five and went to MIT and graduated poised to take over an entire scientific field, you would expect him to… not quit his day job to start his own business and start frantically rambling about tablecloths and color palettes. But that’s what David did. (Privately, he thought his mother was actually very happy about that series of developments.)

And one more person who probably would have been pleased about that series of developments, if he had stuck around to see them: Jack Kelly.

David genuinely wasn’t sure why, out of all the boys he had dated, Stupid Fucking Jack Kelly was the one that stuck around in his head like a piece of gum someone had dropped on the sidewalk. 

(Maybe it was because he had dated him for three years. Maybe it was because they’d seemed perfect for each other. Maybe it was because he was the anti-David, always laidback and secure in his vision of the future. Maybe it was because they’d had the worst breakup of David’s life.)

Whatever. David didn’t care anymore.

(But for all of Stupid Fucking Jack Kelly’s talk about how David was “stagnant” and “unoriginal” he’d better feel bad when he scrolled through his Twitter, Jesus Christ. That shit was perfectly designed to make everyone who had ever doubted him bitter.)

_ Whatever. David didn’t care anymore. _

David loved his life. Seriously. He had a great apartment, he wasn’t struggling to pay bills, he got to see happy couples all the time which  _ in no way made him bitter,  _ hell, he’d been in practically every bridal-and-wedding magazine out there, and he’d looked  _ good  _ in them. (College had done one thing right, and that was give him _ far  _ better fashion sense.)

So when it came down to it all, David didn’t really care about his ex, he cared about himself, and the future that he was building.

“So, my fiancé can come by tomorrow, if that’s the first slot you have open…” The man (probably.. 27? 28?) on the phone trailed off, and David scribbled something down on a sticky note.

“Sounds great. Can I get names?”

“Oh yeah, shit, of course. Um, I’m Anthony Higgins, and my fiancé’s name is Jack Kelly.”

David dropped his phone and accidentally created a Sharpie line all the way across his desk. He swore loudly and ignored Anthony when he asked if something was wrong.

_ Completely. Fucking. Typical. _

 

Jack Kelly loved his life, every single bit of it. He loved seeing his art in the MOMA, he loved his almost-cramped-but-not-really Manhattan apartment, he loved his fiancé. He loved it all.

Well. He didn’t love one thing, and that was grocery shopping.

In an alternate reality where his last months of college had gone perfectly, he might love it. He might love domestic bickering over cereal and smiling at cashiers and making up soapy stories that would show up in gossip magazines.

But he hated it, and it could all be blamed on Goddamn David Jacobs, who was apparently  _ impossible  _ to ignore when it came to weddings. Glaring at the seventh bridal magazine he’d seen with his apparently perfect ex’s name on it, he tossed it begrudgingly into his shopping basket. 

Juggling five grocery bags to answer his phone, Jack pressed it to his ear with his shoulder. “Hey, Tony.”

“I got a planner! And he’ll do the design, too, so we have nothing to worry about making decisions and coughing up money.”

“Those are the two things we’re the  _ worst  _ at.”

Anthony hummed in acknowledgement. “Yes, but that’s the only thing we have to do now. Can you go into a meeting with him tomorrow? 11 AM?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jack loaded grocery bags into the trunk of his car and shifted his phone. “Text me the address, ‘kay?”

“You got it, babe.” A crash was audible through the phone. “I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.” Jack hung up and slammed the trunk shut and glared at the magazine in his hand.

He should have listened to Katherine and eloped.

 

David picked up his phone off of his counter as it rang. “Talk to me, Saz.”

Sarah immediately jumped into her conversation quicker than light like she always did. No time for small talk, just full steam ahead. “My vanilla bean order got here on time, so that cake should be in by the expected date.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god. Any news on the dresses for Solomon and Calloway?”

“Crutchie just texted me, it’ll be here just in time. He said the lace gave him trouble for a minute, but he got over it quickly.”

David grinned. “We’re the best.”

“So says brides.com,” Sarah joked. “Any news on whether it’s The Jack Kelly?”

David groaned, not willing to think about it. “He’ll be here in five, so we’ll see.”

He could almost hear the gears in Sarah’s brain whirring and hard at work. “Do we know the fiancé?”

“No clue who he is. Seems nice enough, though. If he’s engaged to Jack, I’ll probably detest him.”

“No time to be a bitter ex, Davey. Crutchie’s picking you up after work, we’ll go to his place and make you a Tinder and find you some cute guy to be all mushy with. Remember, number one rule!”

“Think about everyone’s wedding except your own,” David grumbled.

“Number two?” Sarah said, sounding as smug as always.

“No crushing on clients.”

“Number three?”

“The bitchier the client, the bigger the paycheck.”

“Exactly!” Sarah trilled. “Now, I’ve got cake pops to bake. Toodles!”

“Check your texts, alright? I’m going to send you a picture, tell me if the outfit is  _ I’m doing great without you  _ enough to be my asshole ex’s wedding planner.”

“ _ Goodbye, David,”  _ Sarah said pointedly, and David let her hang up before he turned to the mirror in his office (call him a narcissist all you wanted, he was in the business for narcissism,) and snapped a picture before he fired it off to Sarah.

_ Pettypettypettypetty: I’m-still-gay-but-I’m-awesome-without-you vibes? _

_ Lesbian from next door: it’s perfect. kick ass! _

David rolled his neck and sat down, considering prayer before Sniper buzzed up to him. “Kelly’s here to see you.”

David winced. “Bring him in.”

Jack was almost late, (it could be blamed on trying to blacklist his ex’s name on every app he had because he was really tired of seeing things like  _ “Thank you so much to @vogue for their article about my work for @themushmb and @blinkandumissit !! Congrats to these incredibly kind and talented artists, much love!!” _ . He got it, David, you were successful and famous and friends with celebrities, thanks. He really wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just blocked David yet, although it could boil down to the fact that it gave Jack a sense of sick satisfaction to see that he, at least publicly was still single. Successful and would-have-been-richer-if-you-didn’t-donate-so-much, but single,) but a nice old lady let him cut in front of her at Starbucks, so he was just on time. He skidded into an admittedly very nicely decorated office building, one of the few smaller ones on the street (probably indicating wealth, the inner New Yorker in him noted, since they could rent or own a building instead of an office or apartment,) and a nattily dressed woman with an undercut looked up.

“Jack Kelly?” she asked, and he nodded mutely. She pressed the buzzer on her desk. “Kelly’s here to see you,” she said.

A clear answer came through. “Bring him in.” 

Jack would be a straight-up liar if he said he didn’t shiver. The voice was eerily familiar, like someone who he known years ago but who had since changed dramatically.

She stood up and motioned for him to follow as she seemed to vanish down a hallway. Jogging to keep up, Jack tailed her, observing examples of a surprisingly decent paycheck or a boss with a reputation to uphold. She wore a deep blue suit, and walked quickly, like she had an urgent agenda. Jack walked step-by-step at the same pace, trying to keep up, and asked, hoping to not seem like an inconsiderate idiot when he talked to the guy, “So, uh, remind me of his name?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed under her breath, “You hire Davey and you don’t remember his name.”

Jack stopped dead. “Who?”

She tossed her head for him to continue walking, and he lengthened his stride to catch up again. “Who did I hire and who am I apparently clueless about?” he asked frantically, and she rolled her eyes.

Jack bit back a comment about her eyes getting stuck and then froze when she stopped in front of a door.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, and don’t be a dick to my boss, he’s a good guy.” Jack was about to ask why she needed to defend her boss, and did she do this to every client, because it was a little weird to tell people beforehand  _ please don’t be mean to him,  _ although if Jack had employees, he would absolutely tell them to do that--

“I heard that, Snipes,” an amused voice said from inside the room, and Jack shivered again, because seriously, it was creepy, it was like he knew the man he was paying ridiculous amounts of money to do what he got a migraine thinking about doing.

_ Wait a goddamn second. _

_ Wait a GODDAMN SECOND. _

The door opened, and Jack actually wanted to slap someone. Preferably his stupidly perfect ex. Or his fiancé who didn’t bother to ask, “Did you date  _ this  _ wedding planner?”

Sitting behind a desk with a sickeningly large pile of paperwork, dressed in an outfit that Jack nearly got a headache thinking about the cost of, still very cute but now attractive in other ways that Jack refused to think about because he was  _ engaged,  _ looking like he was staring Satan in the face, was David Jacobs, the man who had ruined saying “fuck” for Jack forever.

And Jack had to talk to him. About his wedding. And they’d already put in a down payment. And the wedding wasn’t for several more months. 

Jack was going to die before he said, “I do.” He was going to keel over at the altar when he saw David Jacobs in the background leading the cake in. His wedding was going to be ruined because out of all the wedding planners in New York City, Anthony had to pick the best and brightest and Most Attractive Ex-est. His sanity was going to be destroyed, one measly speck at a time.

The complete list of things David Jacobs had ruined for Jack Kelly: grocery shopping, saying the word “fuck”, and getting married. Two of those things were not as major as the other.


	2. Stop Invading My Happy Space, You Heartless Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick argument, some slight fear, an invaded sanctuary, and the best friends in the world. That's what their lives have become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is on time, right????

David could fully admit it, he was petty. But he was able to restrain from telling Jack that looking like he’d eaten a lemon would give him wrinkles, so. At least he wasn’t too much of an asshole. And he was kind to everyone besides his dickhead ex boyfriends, so really, he was a good person.

Sniper, bless her heart, backed up and closed the door behind her. David tilted his head towards one of the four chairs in his office. (One was his, and three for clients; sometimes there were people in poly relationships, sometimes couples brought along a friend, sometimes white women doubted he could design well, so they hired a separate designer… the fourth chair had its uses.)

“Are you going to sit or partake in a tableau?” David asked icily, and Jack sat down mutely.

(David was petty enough to enjoy the look on his face.)

“So,” David said slowly after several long seconds of uncomfortable silence, “you’re here to talk about your upcoming wedding?”

“Yeah! I mean, yes. Yes, that is… my reason for being here.” Jack nodded and clicked his tongue. “So, what… do we talk about? I’ve never… been married before.”

 _Obviously not, because this man clearly is the first person to ever make you consider further commitment._ David caught himself, because that was a _really_ bitter thought, and he smiled painstakingly.

“Well, we can discuss date, time, size, theme, design, budget…”

“Small!” Jack blurted.

“What are you referring to? A “small” theme isn’t exactly a thing, although perhaps you were talking about the size of your dick?”

Jack gaped, and God, that made it _so_ worth how much yelling there was about to be.

“Excuse me?” he said, his voice going up both several octaves and several notches of volume.

“Or perhaps it was the size of your brain,” David said idly, and Jack glared.

“Listen, I didn’t even know it was you I was coming to see, so--”

“That’s rich--”

“I’m not lying, dammit, you think I want to see you?”

“I don’t think you have the right to be the angry one here--”

“I have every single right--”

“Says who, your mother?”

“Actually, Medda was on your side--”

“As she should be--”

“She’s my mother!”

“You were the guilty party--”

“You broke up with _me!_ ” Jack snapped, and yes, David was aware that people in Brooklyn could probably hear them, but he didn’t exactly care.

“Do you remember any _fucking_ thing about _why_ I broke up with you?”

Well, Jack had the decency to seem a little guilty.

David realized that he was standing up, and slowly sank back into his chair. “I…”

Jack sat back down. “Let’s just.. pretend we never met.”

David arched one eyebrow. “We just avoid the topic of our knowing each other until you have a wedding band on your ring finger and I’m out of your life forever with a nice paycheck?”

“Exactly.”

_So we completely avoid the topic to make it easier for you, instead of you owning up to your mistake and apologizing to me, in favor of “starting over” and imposing greater burden on me so that you can look better in front of your fiancé? Exactly._

David pursed his lips. “Fine. Now, what was the “small” referring to?”

“Budget and size,” Jack said automatically. David nodded and wrote it down.

“What were you thinking date wise?”

 

Jack was on the bridge of breaking a tooth, his jaw was clenched so tight. Being around David in college had been like being near a burning fire. He had been warm and bright, flowing over the brim with ideas and things to say, and he had been filled with a boundless energy with nowhere to focus it.

Now, David was like being near a nuclear bomb. All of the energy from college was concentrated, focused on one single target. He was hostile and seemed like he could blow at any moment if Jack made a wrong move, and it was terrifying. Being the target of his energy was like staring down the barrel of a gun, and Jack hated it.

That was only partially because, sure, he made a valid point about their breakup. And yeah, he had become exactly what Jack had never expected him to become, which was infuriating because he had thought he could read David like a book.

Apparently not. Apparently, David took to heart all the times he was told he could be anything he wanted to be.

Jack was relieved that they could change the subject quickly, though. He’d been worried David wouldn’t give up on proving that Jack was an awful person, and that really wasn't a conversation that Jack wanted to have with the one ex that he had never actually come to terms with.

Whatever. Jack loved his life, it wasn’t like a few months of occasionally seeing David on a professional standpoint was going to ruin much besides his self-esteem.

And maybe his marriage, because he was pretty sure Anthony was ready to leave him for David.

“I just thought he seemed very capable, and he’s been doing the job for a while, I think he’s going to be our best shot at the easiest and best wedding we can get.” Anthony looked up from the dishes he was scrubbing like there was no tomorrow. “What do you think of him?”

_I think he’s my ex, and that I might have torn his heart apart, and that I don’t think I’m going to make it through the next few months. I think that everything I know about him has been reversed by talking to him once. I think that he thinks he’s above it all and that he’s a complete asshole._

“I think he seems nice,” Jack said, drying off a frying pan. “Very orderly.”

Anthony beamed and bumped into him. “We’re getting married.”

Jack hummed contentedly. “Damn right.”

 

The three-story building that held “I Do” Wedding Plans and Design was David’s happy place. Yes, it was where he worked, but it calmed him down. There was always fresh coffee, he loved the people he… yes, had hired, but they really had cultivated themselves, he was just a block away from Sarah and Crutchie in all their glory, and it was _his_ place. He’d worked hard for it, from an operation run straight out of a studio apartment to a rented office to a rented floor of an office building to a floor he bought himself to the final point.

It was his happy place, until Jack Kelly invaded it.

Jack Kelly, with his sappy relationship with his stupid fiancé and his dumb engagement ring and his pitiful smile that was still caring when it was towards someone he loved and his downright mediocre eyes that sparkled when he made a joke.

Fuck him, seriously. David was successful. David was happy. David was living the dream. In the game of doing better than your ex that you have to prove wrong otherwise you’ll never forgive yourself, he was winning.

_Then why are you still single?_

Excellent question. Why _was_ he still single? He didn’t need to be. He knew loads of single guys who would _love_ dating him and all of the added perks. Actors, musicians, artists, writers, scientists, activists, the whole deck of cards. He could be dating any of them.

And yet he lived alone with a pair of cats that he had named after Charlotte and Cordelia as a joke but now seemed very much in love.

He snapped out of whatever coma he was in when he realized that he was still leading Jack and his fiancé, Anthony-but-call-me-Racetrack, up the stairs.

“So I talked to Jack about basics,” he said, glancing behind him, “and he said you two liked yellow as a color for your wedding? Any reason why?”

He could almost feel Jack shrugging behind him as David reached the top of the stairs. “It’s a very _us_ color, y’know? It’s happy, it can be bright or calm, and it’s warm, so it really sort of puts love in a color for us.”

That was so unbelievably Jack that it made David want to puke. Oh well, he could do great things with yellow.

He hummed and lead Jack and… Racetrack? Race? Race sounded better… down the hallway. “Well, we can absolutely fit that in the design, and in the cake, too. I’ve got a baker and florist that I normally work with, and will you two be wanting new outfits? I’ve got a tailor that I coordinate with, he’s a close friend.”

“We’re… going to need all of that,” Race said sheepishly. “We don’t buy fancy suits or flowers very often.” David nodded, even though it wouldn’t be seen by the two.

“Well, we can go talk with them about what you want in just a bit. I just wanted to show you around, make sure that you knew the place where you’ll be wandering around quite a bit during the next few months.” Trying to disguise the motion, he pulled his phone out and opened up the one group chat he had that could always be counted on to have everyone in it.

 _Pettypettypettypetty to_ **_Wedding Squad_ ** _: Jack and his fiancé are choosing you nerds as their flower/suit/cake people, don't destroy them?_

_expLORE mr marvin: no promises_

_homosexual father with children: why did u put a ?_

_Lesbian next door: because he doesnt trust you to not break the Dickhead’s nose_

_Pettypettypettypetty: The wedding won’t look nice if one of the grooms has a swollen nose and a black eye.._

_homosexual father with children: yea but itd b fun_

David snorted and tucked away his phone.

If anything happened, it would probably heal in a few months. The wedding would look fine, and David’s friends would still be unstoppable.

 

Jack liked David’s central wedding operation more than he thought he would. He’d wondered if three floors were really needed, but when the second floor was taken up entirely my paperwork and bills and boxes half-filled with packing peanuts, he realized that yeah, for a non-cramped environment, it could be helpful. The third floor was the real kicker: tables covered with swatches of fabric and pots of paint and even mini replicas of chapels and patios.

He didn’t think for a second that it was what other planning offices looked like, because this was David Jacobs, and there was no way in hell what he did was normal. David always had loved the abstract. (David of twenty years old had two seperate wardrobes: his normal one, and the over-the-top flaming one he only used when in one specific class with a homophobic professor. It had just about emptied his wallet, but he said that “The bitch’s face was priceless. You can’t buy that.” And that reminded him of David and dating David and okay he was stopping.) Anyways. If other wedding planning offices looked like David’s, he would eat his foot.

He liked to think that he wasn’t the type to grumble in the background. But his fiancé was having an enthusiastic conversation with his ex about… dance? Dancers? Dancers’ thighs? He didn’t know. So he was grumbling and taking angry sips of his complementary La Croix.

He attempted to tune into the conversation, because he didn’t have anything better to do.

“--With The Stars was my gay awakening, if I’m being honest,” Anthony said, and David put a hand over his heart.

“Jordan Fisher? God, I think I had a right-out-of-college crisis over him.”

“Did you see the one, the one with the De La Guerras?”

David laughed. “I went on a blind date with Jorgelino once!”

“You’re kidding?” Race punched him in the shoulder, and Jack pulled out his phone to play Panda Pop.

His ex was still very gay. Good to know. In a completely hypothetical situation. He didn’t need to know it, it was just interesting to know that he apparently didn’t turn David off guys for the rest of his life.

He should have known. Straight men couldn’t color-coordinate well. (Seriously, Jack was confident that his wedding would look fantastic if David could organize weddings as well as outfits.)

He wrung his hands and twisted his ring around his finger. Something about David made him nervous, more than it made him angry or bitter. David seemed one step ahead of everyone in the room, at the head of every decision made.

And if Jack was being honest, that scared him.

 

David threw open the door to his apartment to find his friends already lounging across his sofa. On any other day, he’d be disturbed, but instead, he just proclaimed, “I need an aspirin and like four shots of vodka.”

Spot waved his hand to where a bottle of Grey Goose was already on the coffee table near his feet. David poured himself a shot and downed it with a grimace. Sarah spoke up hesitantly.

“I take it you’ve had a day?”

David set the glass on the table with too much force. “Five. Months. I have five months. They didn’t even bother to look at Pinterest to see how many people say you should have a year in advance to plan. And his fiancé is fucking perfect for him in this awful way and he’s… still _Jack.”_

Crutchie patted the couch next to him, and David fell onto it with a sigh. Spot leaned across Crutchie to pass David a glass of whiskey, and David waited until everyone had been suitably provided for until he took a sip.

“Spot, I apologize for everything I’ve ever made fun of you for about having to arrange for your exes,” he mumbled into his glass, and Spot tipped his glass towards him in thanks before he downed it.

Sarah turned on the TV and sighed. “What do we feel like, boys?”

“‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’!”

“‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’!”

“‘Bride Wars’!”

Sarah looked at the four of them, clearly disgusted. “We need a different interest.”

David just shrugged. “‘Four Weddings’ kills the gay character. ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’ wins.”

Spot booed him from the Crutchie’s side, and David decided he had never loved his friends more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey!  
> so! if you liked this, maybe drop me a comment or a kudos to tell me... id owe you a container of laundry detergent and my heart  
> my tumblr is @penzyroamin if you wanna pop by, say hi, and maybe reblog the aesthetic i have for this......  
> have a lovely day <3


	3. Reward Placed on Jack Kelly's head! Report to David Jacobs's Best Friends For Information!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David thinks of himself as a pacifist. His friends do not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey

_ Pettypettypettypettypetty: hey can we drop by to look at suits?? _

_ exPLORE mr marvin: but you just??? started planning??? _

_ Pettypettypettypetty: five months, remember? _

_ exPLORE mr marvin: come on over _

 

David turned around just as he was about to open the door to Morris Boutique and held out a hand to stop Jack and Race. “Hold it.” Both of them stopped dead.

David looked both of them directly in the eye. “The guy who runs this place is one of my best friends, and he’s one of the best guys in this business. He’s dressed some of the wealthiest people in the city. Do  _ not _ waste his time.”

Jack looked incredulous, but Race nodded, and David was momentarily pleased. “C’mon.”

He pushed open the door, relishing in the small jingle from the bell Crutchie had had installed shortly after a little kid wandered out and had to be followed across Manhattan. His friend immediately looked up, and David almost felt bad for Jack, because the nerve went off in Crutchie’s forehead so quick, it was like lightning. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw recognition spark in Jack’s face, and he decided it was officially time to have a quick conference with Crutchie.

In a rush, he said, “Jack, Race, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Jack and Anthony, but Anthony goes by Race. You two talk here for a second, I’m going to talk to Charlie.”

Everyone blinked for a moment, and David dragged Crutchie into the dressing rooms. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, he hissed, “You said you’d be okay with not bashing his head in!”

Crutchie winced. “Yeah, but then I  _ saw  _ him.”

That…. Was fair.

“He’s paying us, it doesn’t matter what he did.”

Crutchie frowned. “But you… don’t you remember  _ anything  _ about your breakup? Did you hit your head or some shit to make you forget everything he said? And don’t you dare say it wasn’t bad, because it was fucking horrific.”

He wasn’t wrong, but David was fully committed to keeping the peace for five months. He sighed, and Crutchie tilted his head to the side in a clear challenge.

David opened his mouth to speak, then halted for a moment, then offered weakly, “Is that jacket Gucci?”

“Yes. Stay on subject.”

David frowned at him, and Crutchie gave him a shit-eating grin. “You’re a dick. Anyways. So… we may have decidedthatit’sbettertonottalkaboutit.”

Crutchie was silent, and blinked one, two, three times before he said bluntly, “Did the two of you decide or did he decide?”

When David didn’t answer, Crutchie tapped him in the shin with one of his crutches. “Davey.”

“Alright, fine, yeah, it was him. But it’ll make things easier, so please, don’t flip out on him?”

Crutchie only needed to give him one look to show him exactly how well that was going to work out. David sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses against his face.

“Don’t flip out on him in front of Race?”

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Fine. One wrong word, though, and this shit goes WWE.”

“I’ll bet on you,” David said dryly, then added as an afterthought, “I really do love that jacket.”

Crutchie beamed. “Isn’t it great? Some millionare’s wife threw several thousand dollars at me to thank me for her wedding dress. I hate being nice to people who have way too much money and never use it to help people, but god, I love this jacket, and I love paying the rent.”

“Cheers,” David said, and patted his shoulder. “Ready to go not kill Jack?”

He would give Crutchie tremendous credit, he treated the couple like any normal customers for as long as he could, but no good thing could last.

It was Crutchie’s custom to meet with each person individually with their wedding planner, if they had one, in case they were being pressured into making a certain decision about how the wedding should look. David had watched women break down over a sweetheart neckline before. But the custom went a little off the rails when Crutchie invited Jack into his office.

Immediately, his expression turned to stone. “Jackson fucking Charles fucking Kelly.”

Jack’s face fell into an expression of pure terror. “Crutchie?”

Crutchie set his elbow crutches against his desk and sat down in his chair. “It’s Charlie to you. Do you remember the last time we spoke in person?”

David didn’t know what to say, so he opted for the safest option: silence.

 

Jack did remember, in fact, much more clearly than he’d like to. “We were in a bar,” he muttered, “and….” Alright, the abridged version to avoid David murdering him. “And you threw a drink in my face and threatened that if I ever came within fifty feet of Davey again you’d make me regret ever living.”

David, bless his heart, looked confused. “Crutchie, you never told me that happened!”

Crutchie threw his hands into the air. “Yeah, because it was a week and a half after you two broke up and you were still crying in your apartment and only leaving to go to class and I didn’t think you would want to know that he was in a bar flirting with some chick in a plunging neckline!”

Jack gulped as David’s face went blank. “What?”

Jack didn’t even make an excuse. “I was in a bar and I saw someone pretty and I started flirting and then Cru-- Charlie stormed up, told the girl I was a heartless monster, threw his drink in my face, made me fear for my life, and left without a trace of him being there except the girl vanishing and the whiskey soaking my shirt.”

David gaped at him, momentarily speechless. “You-- you… ten  _ days  _ after we broke up, you were already in bars looking to get fucking  _ laid?” _

That was a rather callous way of looking at it, but Jack supposed that from a certain point of view, it could be considered correct. “I mean…”

David dragged his hand through his hair and blinked rapidly, and god, if that wasn’t a one-way ticket to Jack feeling guilty as hell.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” David said after a moment, and Jack felt himself bristle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Crutchie chose that moment to scoff incredulously. “You can’t possibly have lost as many friends as you did without realizing that you were in the wrong.”

He had a point, which pissed Jack off. He and David had had most of the same friends in college, a random combination of Jack’s friends from every corner of the world, David’s friends from MIT, and people that they had met together. When their relationship had ended, people that had only known David for less than a year essentially cut off all communication with him, which had, yes, hurt quite a bit. And had definitely proved a point about what the general public thought about who was at fault for their relationship crashing and burning.

Jack shook his head. “Just…. We make it through five months without Race finding out about anything, and I’ll get out of your life forever.”

David closed his eyes, but Crutchie looked furious. “He doesn’t know?”

“No, of course he doesn’t! What do you want me to say, sorry babe, the wedding planner you hired is my ex and it’s gonna be super awkward for five months?”

Crutchie and David exchanged a look. “That…” David trailed off. “I mean, that sounds alright.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “No, then he’d be mad that I lied to him!”

“Well, you clearly don’t have a problem with lying,” David said, and Jack had to restrain himself from gaping.

“I…” He looked at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but David’s eyes. “I  _ never  _ lied to you.”

“Sure, Jack,” David said skeptically, and Jack’s gaze drifted up in time to see David deflate slowly. Crutchie went to speak again, but David put a hand on his arm, and Crutchie smiled softly at him, nodding.

“So,” Crutchie said after a moment of silence. “How do you feel about how you want your suit to look?”

 

_ exPLORE mr marvin: wanna kill the evil ex with me _

_ homosexual father with children: more than i want most things _

 

“Kath,” Jack said through a mouthful of cake, “why do you like me?”

Katherine looked up from a newspaper that she had been scoffing at. “Your dazzling vocabulary,” she said, clearly unimpressed, and turned the page of her paper.

Jack sighed. “No, I mean, like… Am I a bad person?” He didn’t look up, but he heard her set down her paper.

“Jack,” she said, and he looked up to see fire in her eyes. “When I was kicked out of my house at sixteen years old, I knew I could go to your house and be safe there. When I had to choose where to go, I knew that I was going to Harvard as soon as you said you were going to Boston. Yeah, you’re a dick sometimes, and you say some stupid shit, but I wouldn’t still be friends with you if you were a bad person.”

Jack was silent for a moment, and Katherine stole a bite of his cake. “Anyways. What’s the status on the wedding?”

“You were right. I should’ve eloped.”

“I’m always right, Jack. I was sort of talking about the whole ex thing, though.”

Of course she was.

Jack swayed his hand back and forth in a so-so kind of way. “It’s weird, y’know? If you’d have asked me seven years ago, I probably would have said that if I was ever going to get married, it would have been Davey.”

_ It would have been Davey. _

The realization hit him like a load of bricks. He would have married David. If the last three months of college had gone like he’d thought they would, he would have graduated while he was dating David. They would have gotten jobs and an apartment and a joint checking account and Jack would have said yes if David had asked him and they would have gotten married.

He would have married David Jacobs, because he had loved him exactly that much.

But he hadn’t loved him enough to hold his tongue. And he hadn’t loved him enough to show it, and he hadn’t loved him enough to hold them together, and he hadn’t loved him enough to be able to sprint to David’s dorm and throw open the door and kiss him with everything he had when David looked up.

Katherine’s eyes changed when he let out a shaky breath. She put a hand on his arm, and he set down his plate.

“Jack?”

“I’m a shitty person,” he mumbled, and she sighed.

“No, you’re not.”

“Ten days after I told him he was…”

He didn’t remember what he said. Three years ago, he had got a voicemail of that awful, unmistakable voice, crying like the last time he had heard it, asking him if he had meant it, and he had been too much of a coward to face him. The words were clearly drilled into the back of David’s mind, but Jack couldn’t even remember him.

“Ten days after we broke up, I was already in a club, half-tipsy and flirting!”

Katherine pursed her lips. “Okay, so you’re an asshole sometimes.”

“A shitty person!”

She rolled her eyes. “You weren’t the only person at fault, Jack.”

“Sure fuckin’ feels like it.”

“You remember, I know you do.”

Yeah, he remembered. He remembered the damn martyrdom and the look on David’s face when he told his parents that Jack was an art major and how David would do that thing when--

Katherine snapped her fingers. “Jack. You’re spiraling.”

“Where’d you get this cake?”

She sighed and let him change the subject, and Jack was relieved that if anyone was his longtime best friend, it was Katherine I-fall-in-love-with-whoever-is-slightly-nice-to-me Plumber.

 

David usually tried to remain vaguely professional around his clients. But considering that he and Race had had a very long debate over which recent “Dancing With The Stars” guest was most attractive and that he had dated Jack for three years and subsequently had several violent arguments with him, he considered professionality a social construct.

Which was why he was sitting on the receptionist’s desk, playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with Sniper while he absentmindedly chatted with Race and waited for Jack to finish washing his hands after touching the jello that Sniper brought as a snack. (“I don’t trust homemade jello!”)

It was a shame, really, that Race and Jack were engaged, because in a world where association didn’t make Race Automatically A Negative Impact on David’s Life, he could have been close friends with him.

Oh, well. Maybe Jack would leave Race at the altar and David could settle with being Race’s friends-with-benefits rebound.

(The fact that he found himself unable to consider being in an actual relationship once he had been reminded of how he and Jack’s had ended was a can of worms that he wasn’t looking forward to opening.)

Speaking of Jack, washing one’s hands really wasn’t supposed to take that long.

 

Jack was aware that Fruit Ninja was an incredibly old game that most people with anything above an iPhone 4 had forgotten about, but goddamn it, it was addicting. Originally, he had pulled it up to avoid talking to David and his fiancé at the same time, since he was a coward, but he was about five minutes in and thoroughly unable to put his phone away.

It took Anthony hammering on the door and telling him to “Get his cute ass outside so they could go look at some tablecloths!” for him to pocket his phone and walk outside with whatever dignity he had left. As soon as he walked into the reception area, David slid off the counter. 

“Thank god. Come on, le--”

The door swung open, and from behind what seemed to be more flowers than Jack could have carried at any given point in his life came a voice, yelling in one of the strongest fake French accents he’d ever heard, “Weekly flowers for David Jacobs!”

“Oh my,” David said in a shocked Southern accent, “I ain’t ever received flowers at work before!”

Sniper, David, and Flower Guy all cracked up, and Flower Guy set down the bouquet.

Dear god. Did  _ all  _ of David’s business partners have to be people who now kind of hated Jack because of the breakup?

Spot Conlon glowered at him, the effect in no way diminished by the overflowing selection of jasmine, loads of things Jack didn’t recognize, and pale pink roses.

“Kelly. And Higgins, right?” His voice had switched back to the Brooklyn accent that Jack remembered, still preposterous as ever.

Anthony nodded, and Jack felt himself become only slightly concerned when his fiancé swallowed hard and stared at a spot on the floor.

Sniper spoke up. “This is Spot. The accents are this dumbass thing they do, and he brings flowers weekly because Davey likes pretty things.”

Jack all too well remembered the accents.

Spot and David had met in David’s freshman year; David was at MIT, and Spot was working at a bookstore near the campus, and they’d become fast friends over a mutual love of Jane Austen and a mutual hatred for “Black Beauty”. Somewhere along the line, they had discovered a mutual skill for accents, honed after years of concealing how their voices normally sounded, and had started a sort of game or challenge in which they’d occasionally drop their normal voice at any given point for an accent of their choice.

Jack didn’t understand it, but he had known better than to argue.

Somewhere amongst his train of thought, everyone had started moving to the door, Spot making sharp gestures with his hands while he described the busy schedule that came with three kids and no partner (Jack remembered only two kids, but okay,) and David interjecting with hums and jokes in an accent Jack could only describe as “white Berkeley resident after three blunts.” 

After a while, Anthony cut in, “Where’d the Southern accent come from, Davey? It sounded better than most...” Jack jotted down in his mental notepad to see if Anthony was sick, because “better than most” didn’t sound like something that anyone related to Anthony would say.

Spot and David burst out laughing, and Jack tried to contain himself until the look on Anthony’s face broke him.

“What?”

David finally stopped laughing for long enough to talk. “My parents lived in Georgia for years before they moved out to California and had me and my siblings, this is what they sounded like for years.”

Anthony tilted his head. “Siblings?”

“Twin sister, younger brother that’s almost as short as me and Spot.”

Spot made an ugly sound in the back of his throat. “I am not fucking short!”

“You’re only a half inch taller than me! And I’m honest! I started drinking coffee at age ten, and I am currently five feet and an inch and a half tall, and no grown-ass man should be that short, but here we fucking are!”

Race cackled at that, and Jack was hit by vivid memories of exactly how short David was-- short enough to ride on kiddie rides in amusement parks, short enough to need a a step stool in the pantry, short enough that Jack needed to bend down to kiss him, even though Jack was five feet and a little more than six inches, which was still considered short, and short enough that he included platform shoes in his extra-flaming-to-piss-off-homophobic-professor wardrobe, and short enough that he reveled in the power that platforms gave him to pin-- actually, Jack was going to stop thinking about that before he walked directly into the street by accident.

Spot grumbled something, and David grinned cheekily. “What was that?”

“I said you’re an asshole and a gremlin and the reason you can’t get a date is because no man wants to get scoliosis from leaning down to kiss you.”

That reminded Jack, he had a doctor’s appointment coming up to see if his scoliosis had improved. David Jacobs had ruined the word “fuck,” grocery shopping, weddings, and Jack’s spine.

David was silent for a moment, then said, sounding like he had stolen a precious family heirloom, “I still have my shoes from when I was in “Kinky Boots” in high school.”

Spot snorted. “And you still fit them because you haven’t grown since tenth grade.” He shot a tired look at David. “I’m begging you,  _ please  _ don’t make the joke I think you’re going to make.”

It took Jack until midnight that night to get that, because he was a little distracted by the idea of David in thigh-high heels. Anthony clearly got it, based on the cough followed by a series of snickers.

Anthony, his fiancé, and therefore the only person who should be distracting him from nearby conversations.

It was only a few more feet of walking before Spot’s watch beeped and he swore loudly. “Christ, Carlos has baseball in a half hour. Davey, you’re still coming over tonight to watch Olivia, right?”

“Yes,” David said patiently, “I will still be coming over to watch age-appropriate cartoons with your daughter.”

Spot sighed. “You’re an angel. A short angel, but an angel. Nice to meet you two!” he said to Anthony and Jack before he hailed a cab with practiced New Yorker ease and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Davey laughed and shook his head. “That poor man. By the way, Olivia is eight. Age-appropriate cartoons is code for “Fashion Runway and throwing popcorn into Davey’s mouth”.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways, hope you guys enjoyed that! just to clear a few details up: yeah, spots a single dad, crutchies a designer and owns his own shop, spots a florist, he and davey have a deal where spot brings him a new bouquet every week if davey brings him new customers.  
> my tumblr is @penzyroamin if you want to chat or rb the post for this! comment and ill owe you a j j bittenbinder vcr tape. STREET SMARTS!!


	4. David Jacobs, Pretentious Pescetarian, and his Favorite Fish Tacos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Race look for vendors, which stirs up memories that Jack doesn't particularly want to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy i suppose

David had been talking about gefilte fish for either thirty seconds or an hour. Jack was vaguely sure that it was closer to the first option, but he had zoned at as soon as he had tasted the steak tacos one of David’s favorite vendors had brought in.

Jack had a reputation, truly, and he was sure that he had visited every taco shop in the whole of New York City at that point, but apparently, the couple that reminded Jack faintly of Medda’s neighbors from his childhood apartment owned a shop that had escaped him.

“Damn,” Anthony said through a mouthful of shrimp, and Jack had to agree. Swallowing and pausing to wipe pico de gallo off Anthony’s cheek, he grasped the woman in front of him’s hands.

“I may have to steal you away from your husband if you’re willing to make food like this consistently.”

She laughed. “You haven’t tried David’s favorite yet! He comes all the way across the city to get them every Tuesday!” She pinched his cheek fondly and passed over two little paper plates. “All the fish we use if fresh and sustainably caught, no bones, obviously.”

David’s gaze practically burned holes in Jack’s taco, and when Jack raised one eyebrow, he shook his head with a smile. “Best fish tacos in the U.S.. Only ones that ever came close were the ones I had in San Diego.”

There was probably a statement beyond that, but Jack felt himself already swept into memories.

 

_The door opened and in came David, shrugging off a pink blazer and cocking his head at Jack’s place on the couch. He slipped on a flannel and sighed in relief, back in his comfort clothes._

_“Your roommate let me in,” Jack said, peering over the back of the couch at David as he took off his trilby and threw it into the closet._

_David yawned, walking over to kiss Jack on the forehead-- a rare occurance unless Jack was sitting down-- before he grabbed a cup to fill with water. “Sometimes I wish, for my wallet’s sake, that I could be content with doing things by half.”_

_Jack laughed, going up on his knees to get a non-obstructed view of his boyfriend. “But you aren’t, and it’s one of the reasons I love you.”_

_David smiled against the rim of his cup-- the kind they gave you at Red Sox games when you bought a beer in a souvenir cup. “I actually had an idea recently,” he said, setting down his water and walking over to sit down next to Jack, kicking off his platforms. At Jack’s go-ahead hand motion, he clicked his tongue._

_“So my professor, not the bitch, the one who likes me? He’s offering me an all-expenses paid trip to San Diego this spring break.”_

_Jack whistled. “Convention?”_

_David beamed. “Better. UCSD has a brilliant marine program, and I’ve been invited personally to work with some alumni on a brief project.”_

_“Look at you, getting huge opportunities!”_

_“There’s a catch, though. The project only lasts for a week, so I’ve got a whole empty week in San Diego, with a nice hotel room and free food, and no one to share it with…” He grinned coyly, and Jack leaned forwards._

_“That sounds like an invitation, Dave.”_

_“Mind RSVP-ing?” David asked cheekily, and Jack kissed him._

_“You want me,” kiss, “to leave my peaceful spring behind,” kiss, revelry for how David’s fingers danced over his jaw, “to galavant through Southern California,” David kissed him that time, fiercer and like he had to convince Jack to come, “with you?”_

_David’s eyes sparkled. “Only a single room, by the way.”_

_Jack tilted his head. “I can live with that.” David grinned and kissed the part of his jaw right under his ear, and Jack couldn’t remember a time when living without David’s kisses seemed like a complete life._

 

“So should we put a deposit in?”

Jack blinked and studied Anthony’s face, one eyebrow raised and a smile dancing on his lips, like he already knew the answer.

Jack mustered up a grin. “Of course!”

 

Jack and Race were deciding on their drink options, which essentially meant David was using up his ten free New York Times articles in the corner. As they debated with a bartender over an open bar versus a menu, he frowned as he thought about the first time he’d seen Jack in a bar. He didn’t even try to run from the thought of it-- it was easier to remember it than to push it back.

 

_David was sitting at the counter, stirring the toothpick in some drink that technically, legally, he wasn’t allowed to have. It was a relief that he had a good fake ID, because he’d been asked for it about seven times already._

_Being short was a curse sometimes._

_The bartender was starting to shoot questioning looks at him when someone sat down on the stool next to him._

_“Well, hello,” someone said, and David turned to get slapped in the face with a wave of_ that complete stranger is quite attractive, isn’t he? _Said stranger stuck out his hand. “I’m Jack.”_

_David smiled, shaking his hand. “David.”_

_Jack grinned. “Can I buy you a drink, Davey?”_

_David was already half-drunk, and getting bought a drink by quite possibly the most attractive person he’d ever seen sounded good at that point._

_“Sure. Whiskey sour, please.”_

_Jack turned to the bartender. “What the cute guy said, please.”_

_David laughed. “So do you go to school here?”_

_Jack nodded. “Boston U. How ‘bout you?”_ _  
_ _David dipped his head. “MIT.”_

_Jack whistled. “Full package, huh?”_

_David blushed, but he could already feel himself gravitating towards Jack._

 

Gravitating was the perfect word for it, David decided as Race practiced holding a margarita glass like a prissy white woman. In college, Jack had been a part of his life irreversibly until he walked right out of it.

It didn’t have to be like that again. David could stay strong. David could refuse to let a gorgeous man with pretty eyes and a charming smile take over his heart.

But as Jack laughed and spun Race around in an impromptu dance, David could feel himself realizing that he might not have been as strong as he had assured himself that he was.

 

A bead of sweat fell onto the collar of Jack’s shirt as David’s sister scrutinized him. It only took a moment, but she still made him just as nervous as she had when they were in college.

Sarah Jacobs was a full inch taller than him without shoes, and with her heels, it was a full three inches. She did the exact same thing that David did where she would raise one eyebrow and look down on him, despite the two siblings being far apart in height.

She broke the critical stare and instead moved to peck Davey on the cheek and shake Anthony’s hand.

“So,” she said, leaning forward, her elbows on the counter, “what kind of cake are you guys interested in?”

Anthony shot a look at Jack. “Wedding…. Cake?”

David and Sarah sighed, the sounds completely identical. Sarah drummed her nails on the counter. “Size? Frosting and cake type? Build?”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “Can we try…. Samples?”

Sarah gave him another cynical look. “It’ll cost you, y’know.”

He shrugged. “So will everything else.”

She shook her head, unbelieving but almost approving. “Davey said you’re an artist?”

Jack could feel himself responding, but his mind immediately strayed again.

 

_He cast a look over at David while they waited at the door. “Nervous?”_

_David shrugged. “A bit. I haven’t done the whole introducing-a-boyfriend thing in a while.”_

_Jack smiled, pressing a kiss in his hair. “As soon as dinner’s over, we’re going back to the hotel, and we can eat ice cream. I got the super chocolatey Ben n Jerry’s just for you.”_

_David laughed, going on his tip-toes to kiss him. “Just for me?”_

_Jack smiled. “Just for you.” He pinched David’s hip and knocked on the door._

_Esther and Mayer Jacobs seemed to exude warmth. He was swept into the small apartment quicker than anything else, and he held David’s hand underneath the table as David’s parents asked him about the flight, how was he enjoying Santa Cruz, so on and so forth._

_And then they asked about college. David was able to control the conversation for a while until Esther turned to Jack. “And what are you studying?”_

_That was when it really hit Jack. David was going to MIT. M-I-fucking-T. He was poised to graduate at the top of his class._

_And Jack was an art major._

_He coughed, trying to find the words. David cut in. “Jack’s studying art, mama.”_

_“Oh.” Esther smiled, clearly surprised. “How nice!”_

_David stared at his food, and Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he watched his boyfriend fidget. He gave David a reassuring smile when he looked over, and locked the look he’d seen in David’s eyes back in his mind in the list of things that hurt to think about._

 

Race and Jack were sitting on the futon in the reception area, holding hands and whispering to each other, when David decided that he was a bad enough person to not want to look at that any longer.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands, and Jack tried to ever-so-subtly let go of Race’s hand without David noticing.

David definitely noticed.

“Well, I’ll send you two off. Super productive day! Remember the meeting on Monday!” He grinned as honestly as he could, and Race stood up.

“Let us buy you a drink,” he offered, and David felt his heart drop to his stomach. The idea of him plus alcohol plus Jack was _such_ a bad idea.

And then he started thinking about it more, and the little gremlin in his head said that Jack plus alcohol plus him might be a good idea, really.

He pushed the little gremlin to the back of his mind.

“I need to be getting home, really. My parents want me home for the holidays, I’ve got to call them soon.”

Race took Jack’s hand with an easy smile. “Good with us. Good luck wrangling your family, they must be a wild ride.”

Jack snorted. “Tell me about it.”

The stupid asshole idiot didn’t even know how to remember his own lie. David remembered in college when Jack had to teach him how to lie about why his homework was late, and felt a sort of grim satisfaction at how the tables had turned.

Race frowned. “How do you know?”

“I told him about it,” David said smoothly, sending Jack a look that he hoped conveyed _I’m going to kick your ass later._

 

Jack wondered how quickly he could flee the country. Days? Weeks? Before David destroyed him where he stood?

He flashed Anthony a smile. “Yeah. C’mon, we’re meeting Kath for dinner, remember?”

He shot frantic _sorry sorry sorry_ looks at David as he and Anthony left, and simply got a carefree middle finger in response.

God, he was good at composing himself. Jack was so jealous.

 

“Fuck him, seriously,” Sarah said through a mouthful of salted caramel frozen yogurt. David raised his container in salute. “He’s such a fucking dick,” Sarah continued. “Why’d Kath even stay his friend?”

David shot her a look, and she sighed.

“Yeah, okay, she had her reasons. Let’s concentrate on the problem. Jack.”

David shoveled frozen yogurt in his mouth. “I’d prefer not to.”

Sarah frowned. “You called me on New Year’s Eve because it reminded you of Jack and you wanted to yell at him. It’s like your hobby.”

David shoved another spoonful of lowfat yogurt in his mouth before Sarah groaned.

“Are you considering not being mad at him?”

“Furrowing your eyebrows gives you wrinkles,” David said through his yogurt.

Sarah furrowed her eyebrows. She was fearless.

“David, you’re not allowed to fall back in love with him. We made this rule after Cute Kyle from Engineering. No getting back together with exes!”

“I’m not going to!” He pointed his spoon at her. “I am many things, but I am not a homewrecker.”

Sarah scoffed. “You’re an accidental homewrecker, that’s for sure.”

“Saz.”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve seen Jack’s in love eyes, and those aren’t his in love eyes that he’s pointing at that pretty boy.”

David frowned. “I thought pretty boy was the title you reserved for me?”

“You’re the prettiest. This guy’s second rate pretty.”

“Thank you. And he loves him! And he doesn’t love me!”

“He might not love you, but he’d spend cash on a nigh--”

David stood up. “This conversation is over.”

“You can’t escape the truth!” Sarah called as he walked out, and he almost wondered how it looked to viewers.

Almost. David had learned long ago not to give a shit what people thought about his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i hope you liked getting a little hint of what their relationship was before everything went to shit!  
> next chapter has a tiny bit of angst but not a lot, and then things just get REALLY intense from there. lots of feelings, folks.  
> thank you for reading, my tumblr is @penzyroamin if u wanna check that out, maybe rb the post for this, chat with me!  
> (comment and ill owe you two lindt chocolates and a mamma mia ticket stub that i found in my sweater pocket)


	5. Why The Fuck You Lyin ft. Marital Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gremlin appears, lies are told, truths are revealed but not to the person who needs to know them, Sarah is scary, Jack's in trouble, kids are cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. love. writing. spots. kids.

David was using up the last of his ten free New York Times articles when the door was thrown open and he felt a presence similar to that of a demon, or perhaps Miley Cyrus.

“What’s up, bitch!”

David didn’t even look up. “Hey, Mush.”

“You recognized my voice!” 

David chose then to look up. “You’ve been my friend since high school.”

“Yes, but it’s still touching.” Mush leaned forward, his elbows on the counter in front of David and Sniper.

Sniper spoke up. “You two are the reason the sassy gay guy stereotype exists.”

David and Mush made the exact same affronted sound, and Mush winced. “So she has a point.”

David shrugged. “I like myself.”

Sniper snorted, and David glared at her. “I do!”

“Sure, Davey.”

David rolled his eyes. “This is bullying.”

Mush sighed. “Blink is rubbing off on you.”

“I would hope not. I don’t want to be a pop, punk, emo, some-fusion-of-the-three-who-knows singer.”

“Hey, that’s my husband you’re talking about!”

“And you’re a rom com actor,” Sniper said dismissively. “Can I talk about my girlfriend now, or are we skipping gay to Davey’s crisis?”

Damn Sniper. She really could not cover up anything, could she?

Mush turned and gave David a critical look. “David Elijah Jacobs, do you have something to tell me that you so callously left out in your weekly relays of what’s fresh and happening in New York City?”

David looked at his shoes. “Jackmaybehiredmeandhe’sengagedandattractive.” Immediately, Mush sighed, massaged his temples, reached into his pocket, and dry swallowed what could have been ibuprofen or something slightly more illegal.

“Tell me everything,” he ordered.

 

Jack pushed salad around on his plate, ignoring Anthony wincing at each little screech of a metal fork on glass.

Eventually, Anthony dropped his fork onto the table. “Will you stop that?!”

Jack set down his fork. “Sorry!”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“So, uh, do you know Spot? Is he like… an old friend or something?”

Anthony shook his head rapidly. “No. Nope. Never seen him before in my life.”

Jack frowned. “That doesn’t sound true.”

Anthony smiled weakly. “I’m just tired.”

“Go to bed, then.” Jack didn’t know why he was still pushing. It wasn’t fair to Anthony, especially since he was weaving a web of not-quite-lies and definitely-lies himself. But Jack never claimed that he wasn’t a hypocrite, and he never claimed to be a perfect person.

As a matter of fact, the only person keeping him from believing he wasn’t awful was Katherine.

Anthony pushed his chair out. “You’re right. I’m going to go to sleep.”

Every  _ please don’t  _ and  _ I’m sorry I’m lying  _ was caught in Jack’s throat as he watched Anthony walk away.

 

David swiveled around the parts of a Rubix Cube in a desperate attempt to solve it. “So do you know Race?”

Spot looked up. “Higgins?”

“Do we know another?” When his work turned out useless, he scoffed and threw the cube at Spot. “I give up, you do it.”

Spot had it done in under ten seconds. “And of course I know him. He was Olivia’s kindergarten teacher, remember?”

David dropped his Luna bar, fuck it being for women, it was delicious, on his counter. “That’s  _ him?” _

Spot raised one eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Why the fuck does he look at you like you killed Alvin and all his chipmunks in front of his class?”

Spot shrugged with one shoulder and rescrambled the Rubix Cube, tossing it back to David. “Try again.”

“You’re such an asshole,” David grumbled, but still attempted it again.

Speaking of assholes, Cordelia was trying to climb him like he was a tiny tree. He shrugged her off, and she slunk back to her corner while David kept talking.

“Seriously, dude, he looks like you awoke some painful memory in his past. If you’d like to tell me, since I so generously bestowed all of my life information ever on you, I’d enjoy it.”

Spot almost threw the lily he was positioning in a vase across David’s apartment. “I don’t know! He taught Liv for a year, I volunteered to bring Sarah’s cheesecake to school bake sales, and we called it a day! I don’t think I had a one-on-one conversation with him about anything but chaperoning for a field trip!”

David picked Charlotte up off his counter, god his cats were high maintenance, and scratched the top of her head as she essentially burrowed into his chest. “A mystery unfolds, hmm?”

Spot shuddered. “You sound like my fucking mom when you ‘hmm’.”

David blinked. “I would hope that I don’t sound like a sixty year old transphobe.”

“My sincerest apologies. You sound like your mom when you ‘hmm’.”

David considered it. “I’ll accept that.”

 

Jack was really going to start associating cake with some rather negative emotions if Sarah goddamn Jacobs kept being terrifying.

At least it wasn’t angled towards him. This time, her aura of “I’ll cut a bitch” was aimed towards whatever miserable asshole she was on the phone with.

“Frankly, Jordan, I don’t give a flying fuck about,” Jack zoned out for the next thirty seconds or so, “and if I don’t have those goddamn papers by Friday, I swear to you, you will wish you were rotting in hell!”

She hung up angrily and took a deep breath. “So what do you need?”

Jack blinked slowly. “I was just wondering if you sell cheesecake… My friend has a book club meeting.”

She nodded. “What kind?”

He frowned. “The…. the cheesecake kind?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll make you a combo box.”

 

Jack and Anthony had been discussing with David who had already RSVP’d when David got a phone call and seemed to immediately kick into action mode.

Clearly, seeing David in his element wasn’t affecting Jack at all. Not in the least. He was a mature adult with a fiancé and David Jacobs being passionate about something didn’t make his heart jump to his throat at all.

The voice in his head that sounded like Katherine said, “Lying is a sin, Jack,” in the smug tone that she always saved for being right, and god, if Jack wasn’t the worst asshole in the world then he was really going to have to have words with whoever beat him out for the position.

Anthony was listening to either ABBA or Drake. Anthony was not at all shaken to his core when he saw David making phone calls at top speed and running over checklists and speeding through tasks faster than light.

Jack, however, he could admit it, was.

He needed to have a deep conversation with Katherine about how he, the messiest and least organized person in the world, was inevitably drawn to people with impeccable senses of organization.

David hung up and sighed deeply. “Sorry about that, crisis mode averted. Wrong order sent to the wrong wedding, you know the drill. Where were we?”

Jack didn’t know the drill, but he had to stop himself from thinking about how he would be willing to listen to David talk about it for about seventeen hours.

Anthony spoke up, something about how they were discussing a song list, and Jack was reminded of exactly how terrible he was.

Jack wondered if a wedding would fully deplete the funds he kept in case an ex showed up back in his life and he needed to get couples therapy.

Then he wondered how telling it was that that was something he saved up for.

He tried to introduce a new topic, and it just introduced to him a new fact.

Jack needed to get better friends/angry exes. First, he had gone out of obligation to Katherine’s book club, where he had heard about  Lord of the Flies for far too long, and then when he had tried to complain about it to David, he just got a face full of David gushing about it.

He needed some STEM friends, except STEM people made his head hurt and often had no appreciation for the arts outside of how they could benefit STEM fields. (Even David, who technically was sort of a STEM person except even though he was good at it but totally hated it, could be a bit of a headache when anyone mentioned how much entertainers were paid.)

And no, he had no idea what anyone was talking about, David talking about books wasn’t an out-of-body experience, it wasn’t like he had Katherine’s weird book talk kink or whatever.

Jesus Christ, he needed to get himself together before he became a homewrecker in his own fucking home. David didn’t ask for this. Anthony didn’t ask for this.

Hell, Jack didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for his ex to end up back in his life and more incredible than ever. As a matter of fact, he would prefer almost anything else.

If he had the chance, he would go back in time and tell himself that no matter how cute the MIT boy at the bar was, Jack would under no circumstances flirt with him and he wouldn’t give him his number if he was the last person on Earth.

But even if present Jack had told past Jack that, past Jack would have done it. That’s how much past Jack’s heart felt connected to David.

And maybe, though it tore him to shreds to admit to himself, present Jack’s heart felt connected all the same.

 

“Uncle Davey!”

It was situations similar to his current one that made David wish that he wasn’t able to blow over by a gust of wind. A tiny, four-year-old body careened into his knees, and David staggered before he leaned down to scoop up his technically-not-actual-nephew.

“Hey, kiddo! Ready for a whole night without your dad or your brother?”

Carlos made an offended noise as his little brother cheered, and David set Evan down so he could kiss Carlos on the top of the head, (god, he loved that his nephews and niece were shorter than him,) and say something encouraging before turning his attention to Olivia and her position in the kitchen, the central hub of all Conlon Chaos.

Spot was searching through the fridge for something, and Olivia slid off the counter to go on her tip-toes and tug David down so she could whisper, “He forgot where he put the Gatorade that he bought three hours ago.”

David winked at her. “Check the inside shelf.”

In thirty seconds, Carlos and Spot were out the door, and Olivia hopped back up on the counter. “Can you make breakfast for dinner?”

Evan gasped. “Pancakes!”

David tapped his chin. “But wouldn’t you prefer cauliflower?”

“No!” Both kids pouted, Evan with every ounce of four-year-old cuteness he contained, and Olivia with practiced skill.

David relented. “Fine, but Evan, you’ve gotta set the table, and Liv, you’re washing the dishes.”

“ _ Cupcake Wars  _ afterwards?” Olivia suggested with a cheeky grin, and David almost sighed out loud at how three children had him wrapped around their pinky fingers.

“If you’re good.”

Olivia punched the air, and Evan hugged his waist again.

For the next few hours, David forgot about Jack for a record period of time.

 

Jack dropped his bag on the table. “God, you will not believe the  _ day  _ I have had.”

No response. He wandered through their apartment until he found Anthony sprawled across the bed, fast asleep at seven in the evening with  The Handmaid’s Tale open against his chest.

He sighed, smiling softly when Anthony muttered something about “share the glue.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Anthony’s forehead, then was about to leave when his fiancé mumbled sleepily.

“I’m up, I’m up…”

Jack ran one finger over the spine of the book. “Is this good?”

Anthony looked suddenly awake and confused. “It’s one of my favorites, Jack. I talk about it all the time.” He frowned slightly, and Jack felt something in the room shift. He nodded slowly. 

“I’m gonna go make dinner.”

 

Jack wasn’t used to being used to silent dinners.

 

He was laying in bed that night, scrolling through whatever could distract him from the worries nagging the back of his brain, when he stopped breathing.

David was everywhere: his brain, his daily life, his Twitter feed.

There he was, with two kids that Jack assumed were Spot’s, next to plates of waffles with whipped cream and strawberries loaded on them, captioned with “Dinner with my two of my favorite kids!”

Jack turned off his phone, fell back onto his pillow, and went to sleep feeling lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was way later than it should be, im so sorry, lifes been crazy. schools about to end, and hopefully i can get out another chapter between it ending and me leaving for nyc!  
> thank you for reading, if you want to leave me some feedback, rb the post on tumblr, or leave me a comment! ill owe you a shitty popsicle  
> love ya love ya love ya, go spread joy!


	6. David and Jack's Friends Are The Best, And Also The Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has everything. WLW ships! Terrible advice! Angst! Also, it's 4K goddamn words!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright. back from camping. have a chapter before i go to the other side of the country

Mush ran his fingers over the hem of Crutchie’s work in progress. “This is really nice.”

Crutchie beamed, holding several pins between his teeth as he carefully sewed on his last few pearls. Finally, he spit out the pins and stepped back to admire his handiwork. “It really is, isn’t it?”

David raised a glass of room temperature tap water. “To yet another episode of ‘Crutchie Is Better Than All Of Us’.” Mush raised his phone, Crutchie raised his pincushion, and there was a few more minutes of comfortable silence while Crutchie worked, David got lost in his thoughts, and Mush debated what word to use to best insult Kanye West on Twitter.

Not all good things could last.

“Soooo…” Mush started, pausing to take a quick selfie in front of a rack of Crutchie’s “safe for photography” clothes before he put his phone away. “How’s Jack doing?”

David glared at him. “We aren’t talking about this.”

Crutchie looked up from the dress. “We really should, though. You keep saying you’re fine, but you left the froyo place without tipping exorbitant amounts. That isn’t like you.”

God, David hated that his morals were so predictable. He set his water bottle down. “It isn’t a thing, he’s just a client. I do the work, I get paid, we never speak to each other again. Simple.” He really, truly wished it felt that simple in his mind.

Crutchie set down his needle. “It shouldn’t be that simple. He hurt you, you and that asshole need closure.”

Mush pointed at Crutchie. “Man’s got a point. This is a blessing in disguise. You can finally tell him about how badly he fucked up in letting you go!”

“But I won’t tell him that.”

Mush threw his hands in the air. “Why not?”

There was a small _tink_ as Crutchie dropped whatever he was holding. “Are you thinking about forgiving him?”

Never before had the workroom of a boutique been so tense, and it was the workroom of a boutique, cesspool of drama.

David wrung his hands. “More forget than forgive…”

Both of his friends objected at the same time, the only audible words being various amounts of swearing. David held up one hand, and they had the dignity to stop. David nodded at Mush to go first.

“He literally shattered your heart into pieces and never apologized!”

Convincing.

“He’s lying to his fiancé instead of facing what he did!” Crutchie added, and damn, they had good points.

David’s conflict must have shown on his face, because Mush gasped. “Oh my god. You’re still sorta in love with him, aren’t you!” It wasn’t even posed as a question, which was extra infuriating, because there was a mild element of truth that David really didn’t want to face. He hesitated to answer as Crutchie groaned for about ten seconds.

“I worked so hard to get you over him!” Crutchie said petulantly. “I set you up on _so_ many dates!”

“And I’m grateful for that.”

“Then why are you still not over Jack?”

David sighed. “It’s not that I’m in love with him. It’s just a lot harder to ignore certain feelings when he’s right there!”

He couldn’t help but wonder what anyone else would do in his situation.

 

“Fuck it out.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, completely aghast, at Albert. “Not in a million years.”

“Name one problem with it!”

“I don’t need to justify my logic to someone who’s currently smoking pot on top of my Christmas tree box.”

Albert raised one eyebrow. “One problem.”

“It’s cheating on Anthony, for one.”

Albert waved one hand dismissively. “Cheating on him once, for a night, to avoid extended cheating on him. And hey, maybe Davey can get the stick out of his ass once he gets his--”

“Please don’t say it.”

Albert laughed wickedly. “Don’t knock ex-sex, man.”

Jack rubbed at his eyes. “I hate you. Elmer?”

Elmer was fast asleep on Jack’s old beanbag, so he was no help in any way, shape, or form. Jack really needed to stop having meetings with his two friends who would act as his shoulder devil, because shoulder devil meetings always ended up in his old storage unit, and his storage unit had far too many spaces to comfortably sleep in. At least Katherine would meet him face-to-face like the brave lesbian she was.

Brave until a pretty girl so much as smiled at her. Then she became an absolute coward. She was still better than Albert and Elmer, though.

 

David squinted at the napkins on the table in front of him. “Is this all the yellow we have?”

Crutchie examined his nails. “We hardly ever use it, so….. Yeah.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose. “Saz, can you look over the absorbency, texture, shit like that, to make sure it matches the menu?”

Sarah nodded absentmindedly, and David opened his laptop so he could get a closer look at the flower pictures Spot sent him.

With any luck, planning the actual wedding could get his mind off of the people in it. It usually worked for most couples. The bitchiest people could be erased from his mind and simply become clients, all because David would get wrapped up in a pretty color scheme and some nice silverware.

Unfortunately, Jack and Race were not most couples, because most couples were not frequent appearances in his weekly reviews in the therapy-esque discussions he and Sarah had each week in the smallest coffee shop they could find.

David loved his job. David loved his life. David loved his family and friends and apartment and two cats and utter lack of anyone to press feather-light kisses to his jaw and set the table while they waited for takeout. David loved order. David loved organization. David loved everything down to the last detail, the very last thing that Jack had scorned him for before he had stormed out of the door of their hotel room, bound for a plane filled with people who didn’t know what had happened hours earlier.

 

Jack eventually became desperate enough that he shook Elmer’s shoulder to wake him up. Elmer grumbled, slapping his hand away, but still opened one eye.

“This better be good.”

“What should I do about Davey?”

“Ex-sex or murder.”

Jack hated himself for thinking that Elmer would be any help.

 

“I don’t get it,” Race said. “There’s no way you’re only five-one-and-a-half. You don’t look that short!”

Well, thank god for small blessings, David supposed.

“I use the same trick that Jack does-- shoes.”

Race might not have been the person David liked most in the world, but he was willing to be enraptured by David explaining how dress shoes added an extra bit of height, usually an inch or even more if you could get your hands on the right pair. Of course, Jack used high tops, not dress shoes, but whatever. The point was that with good posture and good shoes, David could usually bring himself to five feet and three inches, the same way that Jack could bring himself to five eight or even nine with high tops and fluffy enough hair.

At the end of his lesson in the proper manipulation of footwear, David leaned back against his desk as Race scrutinized different napkins, Jack at his side as always. “Anyways, shoes add to my height and wardrobe. Useful as hell, and nice to look at.”

Jack visibly smiled as Race laughed. “I’ve never met someone who cared this much about shoes.”

David rolled his eyes. “Crutchie can go longer. Actually, you’ve got a meeting with him soon, so roll out, guys.”

He and Race exchanged quick good-byes, Race thanking him as always and squeezing his shoulder before he departed, Jack close behind him.

Before David could breathe again, though, Jack reappeared in the doorway. David raised one eyebrow, and Jack waved his hand as if to say _it’s fine, don’t worry._

“Don’t you need to get going?” David asked, and Jack looked uncharacteristically caught off-guard.

“I just wanted to tell you that I like your jacket.”

David glanced down at himself, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was wearing. “Thanks. It works well with the shirt, because complimentary colors and all, but it was hard to find shoes that worked with the color combination, because plain black doesn’t always--” he tuned out to what he was saying, just letting himself talk, and for a second, he felt like he was back in college, explaining things that he didn’t completely understand and complaining about things that he knew to the finest detail while Jack listened patiently.

When he ended his mini speech about his jacket, Jack shook his head.

“You’re fuckin’ pretty, you know that?”

And with that, he left.

David blinked once, twice, three times. _What the actual fuck._ Boots knocked on the table behind him.

“You alright, boss?”

“Please don’t call me that,” David said on reflex, dragging his hand over his face to try to stop his cheeks from heating up. One nice word from Jack Goddamn Kelly and he was a college student again. Fantastic.

Boots laughed. “Sure, Davey. Your flaming ears have anything to do with our client?”

Damn David’s Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Ears. He scowled at Boots, and Boots cackled before he went back to sketching. David collapsed in the chair next to him.

“What’re you drawing?”

“The bouquets from the Solomon and Calloway wedding. I really liked the trailing ivy that Spot used, I wonder if he sells them in pots, and--” Boots kept talking, and David almost laughed. Boots was a heart-break-less version of David when he first started planning weddings, when he wasn’t quite used to being surrounded by glamour and people overflowing with money to spend on it. Boots had started out as an intern that David immediately hired, and god, if he wasn’t the best bargainer David had ever met. He’d got the office a new french press for one dollar on Black Friday by begging until the cashier gave up.

Wait a second.

David turned to Boots. “Idea time.”

Boots grinned. “Those are words I like.”

David drummed his fingers on his armrest. “Could you convince everyone that a bring-your-pets-to-work day is a good idea?”

“Maybe five minutes of work. Why?”

“Race is allergic to cats. If I bring Char and Cor, he won’t be able to make it, and I’ll tell them it was… Sniper’s idea. Would that be okay with her?”

Boots nodded. “She’d be chill with that.”

“Okay. And because Race will be gone, I’ll be able to actually talk to Jack. Maybe get closure? Maybe yell at him? We’ll see.”

Boots frowned. “Closu--”

David shushed him. “Stop being sensible. We’re unreasonable in this office.”

 

Jack was eating an english muffin silently when Anthony got a phone call. He picked it up.

“Hey,” he said, the first words he had said since waking up besides a quiet “Good morning” mumbled against his coffee cup when Jack brushed against his shoulder.

“Something wrong?...” He burst out laughing. “Yeah, totally. Don’t do anything fun without me, ‘kay?” He grinned. “Thanks for telling me.” He waited a moment, then hung up.

He turned to Jack. “They’re having a pet day and Davey has cats. It’s just a quick thing, making sure all the vendors are finalized before we go into the final few months.”

As if they weren’t both counting down days. Jack had alarms on his phone set. Every morning, he woke up knowing how long until he wasn’t Jack _Kelly_ anymore.

Whether he knew out of excitement or dread was a different matter.

Jack sighed. “It’s going fast.”

It was. Two months and three days had passed since Jack saw David for the first time in five years. It felt like seconds sometimes, like if he closed his eyes and blinked he’d be standing at an altar. They went to occasional meetings, they met vendors, they picked vendors, they got general ideas of design aspects.

Jack thought about it as he washed out the measuring cup that he had eaten oatmeal straight out of and kissed Anthony on the forehead before he left, deciding to Uber over because he liked seeing pictures of his drivers’ cats or kids.

Speaking of cats, walking into the building was like walking into heaven. Sniper was laughing as a German Shepard licked her face, its paws on the counter. A guy that Jack recognized but didn't know was trying to dislodge a kitten from his shoulder while a puppy followed him at his feet. He heard what sounded like a parrot squawking from another room.

After a few seconds of euphoria, the burden that had slipped off Jack’s shoulders jumped straight back on when David walked in, trying to write something on his palm, as a black cat rubbed against his legs.

And goddammit, Jack should have known David was like a Disney princess, or a witch. And he should have remembered that animals made men more attractive.

In essence, Jack was ready to get out as fast as possible.

 

He certainly tried his goddamn best to do so. As soon as David finished talking about how they had all the vendors booked, they could turn in deposits on these days, he had haggled long enough that the couple who wanted the same venue was getting married in New Jersey, everything was good, they could work on choosing their music, David would deal with communicating decisions, etcetera etcetera, Jack immediately started heading to the door.

“Wait, shit!” He turned around to see David scrambling through his desk drawer. He pulled out an envelope.

“Just some information about color schemes,” he said quickly, stepping forward to press the envelope into Jack’s hand. Jack took it, and glanced at the back before his eyes flickered to David’s face. David had an expert poker face, but a light still managed to flicker through in his eyes. Jack brushed his fingers against David’s hand, which remained hovering in the small space between them, as if David hadn’t thought to pull away.

David blinked, swallowing hard. “Jack.”

Immediately, guilt bolted through Jack’s chest. “Yeah. He wrenched his hand back and stepped away. “Have… have a good day, alright?”

David nodded briefly and scooped his cat up off the ground, holding her in front of him like she was a shield, the way he positioned coffee tables and chairs between him and anyone he confronted.

Jack clenched his fist and fled, barely taking the time to nod at Sniper as he left.

And as he left, the scariest thing to him was how taking David’s hand had felt just as natural as it had five years ago.

 

David threw open the door to Sarah’s apartment. “Saaaz! I need you!”

There was a large _thump,_ and Sarah tripped through the hallway, hair disheveled and her shirt on inside out. She gaped at him. “How did you get in here?”

David shrugged. “Credit card, you didn’t lock your dead bolt. Do you have someone over?”

Sarah shook her head rapidly. “No. Of course not. I am the only one in this house.”

David raised one eyebrow. “Really. So if I check your bedroom…”

Sarah didn’t say anything, and David laughed. “Hey, Saz’s Mystery Girl? Are you decent?”

“Yeah,” said a muffled and half-familiar voice.

David grinned at Sarah. “Can I meet you?”

Sarah’s bedroom door opened, and David dropped his wallet.

Katherine Plumber spread her arms out a little. “You already have?”

The entire apartment wentquiet. The only sounds were Sarah’s washing machine and the pounding heartbeat in David’s head because why did _everything_ in his life have to come back to Jack?

Katherine finally spoke. “So, uh, Jack said you had a pets-at-work day today. How was that?”

He appreciated that she was trying. He was mildly troubled by the fact that the mention of Jack didn’t make him angry, just Bad Emotions That Shouldn’t Happen.

He dragged one hand across his face. “That’s what I came to complain about.”

Katherine wandered over to the pantry and started searching through it. “What happened?”

David thought for a second about how Katherine was Jack’s best friend, and how she might tell him things, and how since he hadn’t talked to her in years, maybe it wasn’t a great plan to spill to her all of the details that he had in his head. But if Sarah trusted her, then he trusted her. That was how the two of them lived, and it was how they would continue to live.

He sat down as Katherine triumphantly found the popcorn. “Jack loves Race, right?”

Katherine turned abruptly towards him. “Why do you ask?”

He wrung his hands. “It’s just. He called me pretty and I think he was going to kiss me and I… I need to know what he’s thinking.”

Katherine sighed and stuck the popcorn in the microwave. She sat down next to Sarah, who was already lounging across her couch. “Jack’s just as unsure as you are.”

David blinked. “Well, that just isn’t helpful at all.” Katherine laughed, and any momentary worry that she would be offended vanished.

Sarah leaned into Katherine’s side and rolled her eyes when David raised one eyebrow at her. “Kathy, permission to badmouth him?”

Katherine shrugged. “I’ll tell you that you’re wrong if it gets out of line, but sure.”

Sarah immediately went off. “I’m so goddamn sick of this shit. He doesn’t have the right to do that shit when he’s engaged and he hurt you and all that fucking bullshit.” She looked at Katherine, like a silent prompt to reveal any hidden information about Jack’s inner turmoil.

Katherine frowned. “Well, it wasn’t all Jack’s fault. Sorry, Davey, but you realize that you fucked up too, right?”

David opened his mouth, and she waved her hand. “Wait, yes, he was a massive asshole. I’m not saying he wasn’t. Continue.”

He wrung his hands. “I didn’t… He started the whole thing. I tried to… to make things better, for both of us, and he lashed out.” Katherine’s frown deepened, and the sense of unease, the sense that he had said something wrong, deepened. “Can… can you tell me what I did? So I can see if I was an unforgivable asshole?”

Sarah laughed slightly, and Katherine looked at the bowl of apples that Sarah had placed on her coffee table. “Frankly, he felt like you were ashamed of him.”

David flinched, which Katherine obviously noticed. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, that’s how he felt.” When David didn’t have a moment of enlightenment, she continued, “You were this brilliant MIT student and he was a Classical Art major. He felt like you thought you were above him, and like he was some kind of burden you had to bear.”

David swallowed heavily. “I… I never thought of him like that.”

Katherine stood up to get her finished bag of popcorn. “I’m not the person who needs to hear that.”

“He--” David cut off as his phone rang. “Just a second.” He answered it, but before he could even begin, a voice broke through the air.

“So we’re in front of your apartment, which by the way is so nice, what the fuck, and you aren’t here, so you better have a good reason.”

David smiled, glad to hear a voice that he didn’t immediately connect to college and Jack. “What counts as a good reason?”

There was a thoughtful silence, and David watched as Katherine and Sarah strained to hear. “Work or getting laid.”

He clicked his tongue. “Neither of those. Sorry, I’ll be right over.”

“You better!” she said, and he hung up.

He looked back to Sarah. “I’ve got to cut this short, Buttons and Jo are waiting for me to come home so they can control what outfits I pack. I think Jo’s there, at least, last I heard spouses are allowed.”

Sarah blinked, dumbfounded. “Pack for what?”

“High school reunion?”

“That's…” She paused, counting on her fingers. “That’s this year?”

Katherine started cackling. “You’re _old_!”

Sarah gasped and smacked Katherine with her throw pillow, and David took the opportunity to slip out.

He, after all, had an entirely new couple (were Sarah and Katherine a couple? They seemed like it. He was mildly offended that Sarah didn’t tell him,) to meet with.

 

David was so relieved to have friends who didn’t break into his apartment. When he really thought about it, that was a disturbing sentence, but whatever. All he knew was that seeing Buttons and Jojo outside his door took a signifcant weight off his shoulders.

“Davey!” Buttons trilled, hugging him tightly as soon as he rounded the corner and saw them. She pulled back. “Where have you been, you ass?”

“Buttons?” Jojo said, and Buttons turned on her heel to look at her wife.

“Yeah?”

“Darling, we’ve been traveling for three years.”

Buttons laughed. “Oh, right. And look who got famous while we were gone!”

David was so glad that Mush was skipping their reunion. He wasn’t sure how high school him survived their combined drama.

“I’m not famous,” he said, and Buttons shrugged.

“I saw you in “Vogue”, so…”

David gave up trying for humility. “Alright, sure. Quit loitering and come in.”

Buttons chose to immediately collapse on David’s couch. “Christ, I can’t remember the last time I sat down.”

Jojo frowned. “We were on a plane for hours.”

“And your tour had us moving for years!”

Jojo tilted her head. “Okay, that’s fair.”

David sat down on one of the barstools he had by his kitchen counter. “So how’s _Swan Lake?”_

Buttons and Mush had been David’s best friends all through high school. David had moved to the East Coast and had his ensuing drama. Mush had moved to Los Angeles, started acting for romcoms, and met a pop-punk singer whom he promptly married. Buttons stayed in Santa Cruz, got a business degree, and started working as a secretary before she met a ballet dancer, quit her job, and traveled alongside her girlfriend across the world while going to school online. The two got married in Belgium, Buttons got a graphic design degree, and last David heard was designing pages for a French magazine.

In short, David loved his friends so much it made him want to cry.

Jojo beamed. “God, I knew I made the right decision. I teach yoga online, too, you should--”

“Not in a million years.”

Jojo groaned. “You’re more stubborn than my mother, and she’s still hoping I meet a nice Indian boy.”

The unholy trinity-- Jojo’s nice Indian boy, David’s nice Jewish girl (a dream that Esther had long ago abandoned,) and Spot’s any man who wouldn’t leave him with a child. (Also a fallen fantasy.)

Jojo was already moving to ramsack David’s room. “Have you not packed yet?”

Buttons got up, wincing and rubbing her shoulders. “He’s a shut-in, he doesn’t travel.”

David followed Buttons into his room, which in thirty seconds had become the victim of Hurricane Jojo. (Hurricane Jojo was powerful. She’d set up David on a blind date, only to reveal at the last minute that _yeah it’s my brother have fun!!_ )

Jojo poked her head out of his closet. “Do you have any relatively club-appropriate clothes?”

David rubbed his temples, already sensing an incoming migraine. “Bottom compartment of the shelf next to the dress shirts.” Buttons eagerly dove in and seconds later groaned.

“Are you shitting me, Davey?”

“I’m twenty-eight! I don’t go to clubs a lot!”

“That’s not stopped anyone else,” Jojo said, scrutinizing him. “Where’s that blue v-neck you had in college? There’s no way it doesn’t still fit you.”

Ignoring the thinly veiled jab at his height, David focused on ignoring the question.

“I…. I have no idea.”

Buttons raised one eyebrow. “Did you hide it because it reminds you of Jack but you value the memories the two of you had together too much to throw it away?”

David blinked. “How the fuck did you get that?”

“It’s what I’d do,” she said dismissively, and Jojo crowed.

“Found it!” She pulled the shirt out of the pile of objects that David had sloppily pushed into a box five years ago and stored under his bed. “This is the randomest shit I’ve ever seen in an ex-box… Wait, are you okay with me looking through this?”

David put on a calm and collected face. “Go for it.”

Jojo looked doubtful as she sorted through the box. “Grapes of Wrath, a pair of sunglases, plane tickets, like fifteen sketches of you, a bunch of photo booth pictures of you two-- damn, you guys were really cute, weren’t you?” David snorted, and she kept going.

“A Mets hat, nice, an empty pack of gum--” David sighed sadly, and she threw her hands in the air. “The gum’s what gets to you? A scribbled-on piece of cash, you gave Andrew Jackson a fucked-up face, which I respect. A napkin with his number on it, a crappy blanke-- shit.”

The room went silent, and David stared at his hands, and Buttons went to peer over her wife’s shoulder.

“Oh.”

David wished he could shrink until he was too small to see, or become invisible so he couldn’t be confronted, or run a million miles an hour, far away from the little black ring box sitting on his bedroom floor.

Buttons’s quiet voice seemed to fill up the entire room. “Were you going to…”

David swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Buttons had wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Don’t even think about it. We’re going back home, and we’ll go bananas at the Boardwalk, and you’re going to get so laid that you’ll completely forget about Jack. Got it?” Her voice contained a certain ferocity, like she would force the world to let David be happy.

David took a deep breath. He was going back to Santa Cruz. He was going to see his family. His oldest friends would be there. Everything would be fine.

He nodded. “Got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i hope that sufficiently prepared you for the next chapter!  
> speaking of the next chapter, somethin differents going to happen. usually, i switch povs, but this one is going to be just davids pov. its going to be a Pivotal Plot Moment, though, so get ready!  
> if you enjoyed this, leave a comment or rb the post on my tumblr, @penzyroamin!!  
> (comment and ill owe you pictures of my dogs)


	7. David's Interlude, ft. Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and Fuck High School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and his friends ransack Santa Cruz. it leads to exactly as many problems as you'd think. Also, realizations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> biiiiitch this chapter was written half on nyc subways on my friends phone so. yknow.

David hated flying on planes. He hated the smell of the inside of planes. He hated being squeezed between two different people that he didn’t know. He hated airline pretzels. He hated walking through security. He hated being in the air. He hated having all that empty time where he had nothing but his brain and his dumb thoughts and the two old ladies that were breathing down his neck.

Jojo shot him a look from across the aisle that pretty clearly read _I am three seconds away from jumping out of this plane._

David promptly stood up to get into the tiny plane restroom as quickly as possible. As soon as he locked the door, he thanked God that he was wearing sweatpants and an MIT sweatshirt as he leaned against the door and raked a hand through his hair. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

_Jack: yo text me when u get down k????_

David stared at his phone, the gears in his brain cranking up in speed as he tried to force back his heart pounding.

First question: why had Jack’s grammar not improved over the years?

Second question: what did he need to talk about?

Third question: oh, yeah, WHY WAS JACK TEXTING HIM?

David debated turning off his data, for money purposes, until he remembered that he had unlimited. Things like that happened to him sometimes-- he would forget that he was no longer living a life where he constantly had to scrimp and save, reverting back to when he was in high school and he was searching for scholarships and talking to community colleges and cutting coupons before he went grocery shopping in place of his parents, who were constantly at work.

But he was in a better place now. He didn’t always have to worry. He could send money to his parents when they needed it. He could buy name-brand things, on occasion, when his tendency to donate most of his paycheck didn’t get the best of him. He could beg Crutchie to suitably tailor his pants to fit him.

Maybe, he thought, it was the same sort of thing with Jack. He just needed to remember that he wasn't in love with Jack anymore, and then the heart thumping and the thinking about kissing him and occasionally thinking things that were not suited for the public about how Jack looked now that he wore colors that brought out his eyes would go away.

He got three texts in rapid succession.

 _Lesbian Nomad to_ **_Gay:_ ** _Why are you taking so long???_

_Pointe Bi: if youre jacking off ill tell everyone your old school_

_Jack: haha that wasnt for u fgshgsdshdhs_

 

“You’re fucking _lying!”_ Elmer crowed over Jack’s shoulder, and Katherine cast a look of disapproval across the room.

“I disagreed with this to begin with,” she said, and Albert booed her.

“He just needs to fuck,” he clapped, “it,” clap, “out!” clap. “That starts with talking!” Katherine grimaced, and then picked up her phone when it started ringing.

As soon as she picked up, her frown melted into a soft smile. “Hey, Saz. Yeah, I’m free. Where?”

She picked up her purse and left, and Jack was left with his shoulder devils.

David stumbled off the plane, brain still jacked up from Xanax, and Jojo grabbed one of his arms. “Steady, Davey.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were all holding coffee and making their way towards the baggage claim. As they stepped past the security point of no return, David heard a voice calling his name.

His name, but affected with his mother’s Polish accent.

Jumping awake, he searched for her in the crowd of suitcases and saw her pushing past a couple furiously making out. He ran forwards, hugging her tightly and relishing in how he was finally taller than someone. She murmured quietly, and he felt himself tearing up because yeah, he was twenty-eight, and he hadn’t seen his mom in two goddamn years, and he had missed her _so fucking much._

Esther pulled away from him, pulling Jojo and Buttons in to hug them tightly. “You’re home,” she said eventually, and David grinned.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

 

“Dippin’ Dots! Dippin’ Dots! Dippin’ Dots!”

David sighed. “You guys are fucking five.”

Buttons waved ten dollars in the air. “Dippin’ Dots!”

“I don’t know if they’re kosher…”

Jojo frowned. “But… they don’t… they don’t have meat… or…”

“You sure about that?” David raised one eyebrow, and Buttons frowned.

“Actually, no.”

The three shot wary glances at each other. “Giant Dipper instead?” David asked, and Buttons nodded quickly before she grabbed her wife’s hand to drag her towards the rollercoaster.

 

Buttons threw her money on the counter. “May I have a hot-dog-and-three-mustard-packets-and-relish-and-and-cheese- _please!”_

Jojo gagged. “You’re going to die at thirty-six and I’m going to be a widower.”

Buttons smiled through a mouthful of mustard, and David felt his veggie burger wanting to make a reappearance.

 

“Are you kidding me?”

David looked up, his head splitting with pain. Buttons threw open the blinds, and he groaned as the sunlight seemed to spit acid in his eyes. She glared at him. “I thought you were getting down on some twink, and instead you’re sleeping off a hangover?”

Jojo walked in with coffee, settling down on the bed next to him. He made grabby hands at the cup of coffee, and she just took a sip herself. “Please tell me you didn’t drive.”

David shook his head, then clutched at his temples. “Who do you-- fuck-- do you think I am?”

Jojo shrugged. “A drunk gay dude.”

Which… was true, he guessed.

Buttons leaned out the window, which she had opened so that they could hear the birds screeching out their off-tune bullshit. “Put on something pretty tonight,” she said, completely unprompted and leaving both Jojo and David blinking and confused.

“Why?” David eventually asked, and Buttons grinned.

“I’m hooking you up with one of your former crushes and that’s that.”

David shook his head and threw a pillow at her, and she dodged as it flew out the window.

 

David had forgotten how many bad memories of anti-bullying assemblies (that never worked, and that just made things worse) lied in his old multi-purpose room.

To his right, Buttons was murmuring quietly to herself, likely something close to what was going on in his head.

The last time these people had seen him, his dad was unemployed, he was going to go to community college (a completely valid choice, he reminded himself, just something that everyone thought didn’t work for him,) and it was possible that he was going to need to not go to college for several years in order to support his family. He hadn’t even attended the last month of school, since he had taken extra classes to finish early, impatient to get high school over with-- he had walked at graduation and never come back to that school. He had left, poor enough that his family was worried about paying for Les’s uniform the next year.

And he was back, successful but still just as scared as he was when he left.

 

The wine wasn’t even good enough to want to get drunk. David slowly swirled around the plastic cup as he watched his old classmates introduce their spouses and their girlfriends and boyfriends-- (hardly any date-mates, private Catholic school that Esther and Mayer lied through their teeth to get David into on scholarship, remember?)-- and tried to disguise any obviously bitter emotions that his face might have betrayed.

God, there were so many straight people there. Only his luck that he’d form the Secret Gay Friend Group there. (Very secret-- Buttons had never believed in God, unbeknownst to her family, and Mush and David were Jewish. None of them should have been at that school.)

(It was a fucking miracle that he had gotten into MIT. Thank you, early college courses that he took in high school for science and math.)

He smiled as Buttons clung to Jojo’s hand, glaring at all the couples around them like she was daring anyone to talk. The countless white straight couples probably weren’t about to strike up a conversation with the two Indian women with resting bitch faces, honestly. At least they were that lucky.

Someone sat down next to him, and David turned.

“Hi.”

David paused to make sure his mouth wasn’t hanging open. “Patrick Cortes,” he said slowly, grinning. “Holy shit.”

 

Patrick smiled. “Finch. No reason, I just like it.”

So David wasn’t the only person at his school who’d grown up well.

“You know,” Finch said, his head tilted back against the outer wall of the school, “I almost didn’t come.”

David tilted his head towards him, an invitation to speak, and he did. “This school was tough, y’know? Neither of us had a great experience. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here again.”

It was the same for David, but it wasn’t like David was planning on telling him that.

“Why’d you come, then?” he asked instead.

Finch shrugged. “I knew you would.”

There were two implicit meanings behind that. One, if David could face it, then Finch could. And two, David being there made Finch want to be there.

They let those meanings hang in the air for a while before Finch spoke again. “You know, you were the first kiss I had with a boy.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

Finch laughed out loud. “Why?”

“I was a terrible kisser in tenth grade! I wore lime-green cargo shorts willingly!”

“Those aren't connected.”

“But aren’t they?” David said, and pretended to shudder. “I’m better now, I swear. On both fronts.”

He realized the implied challenge hanging in the air as soon as Finch did. Finch gave him a questioning look, and David met his gaze. (He surprised even himself. Maybe he didn’t have a reason for doing so. Maybe he just wanted to kiss someone and not care about it. Maybe he was tired of running away.)

The next thing he knew, he was kissing his classmate against the wall of his high school, and if he had thought, he would have recognized how much Finch had changed; instead of being clumsy and terrified in the way he pressed his lips to David and then ran, he kissed like he was sure of himself and enjoyed every second of his life.

Finch was a good person. Finch didn’t deserve to be caught up in David’s bullshit. Finch didn’t deserve to have David wish that Finch’s hair was a little longer and that his skin was darker and that his eyes were a dark, almost liquid brown instead of hazel. Finch didn’t deserve to have David wish he was someone else.

And yet, when Finch muttered “My apartment?” when David took a single half-second to catch his breath, David couldn’t help but be disappointed that it wasn’t Jack’s voice.

 

David rolled over, squinting in the light before he frowned at the blankets bunched up at his feet, plaid instead of the thin stripes of his comforter.

_Oh, yeah. Not my bed._

He pushed the sheets off of him and checked the clock quickly before he started making his way towards the gradually growing sound of the clink of plates and pots and pans.

He opened a door, and Finch turned around, orange juice jug in hand. “Oh, hey! Breakfast?” He held out a plate of toast and fruits and eggs, and David realized exactly how hungry he was.

He took it and sat down at the kitchen table, Finch joining him a few moments later. David picked up his fork, debating what to say.

“I’m not a homewrecker, right?”

Finch snorted. “Not in this home.” David nodded slowly, and Finch looked up. “I have faith in your moral compass, but…”

David waved one hand. “Nothing here. No relationships.”

Finch pushed his plate aside, put his chin in his hands, his elbows on the table, and grinned widely. “Any non-relationships? Frequent hookups? Violent pining?”

David pointed at the eggs. “Kosher chickens, right?” Finch nodded, so David piled eggs onto his toast as he continued to speak. “Why do you think you should get to know?”

Finch looked up from his orange juice. “All of last night.”

David tilted his head to the side. “Fair.” He stood up to make himself a cup of coffee and explained as he did. “So I have this ex.” Finch hummed from behind him, which David took as an invitation to keep talking. “And I think…” He tapped the countertop, releasing the anxious energy from his brain. “Realizing that he isn’t… that maybe he isn’t as bad as our breakup made him seem made me realize that maybe I’ve been burying all the good things in so much anger that when I see them, I remember… how loving him feels.”

He turned around, leaning on the counter, and Finch blinked. “That’s deep for ten in the morning.” David shrugged, and Finch seemed to contemplate the situation. “How long?”

“Dated him for three, broke up with him…” David thought back, thinking about how the month would affect it. “Huh, almost six years now.”

Finch sipped his orange juice, waiting for David to finish putting coffee beans through the grinder before he talked. “So are you in love with him again?”

David left the question alone for a while, letting the words settle into him, and into the room around him. He let the words embed themselves in the furniture, the counter, the tiles all around him.

“I don’t think I ever really stopped. I just forgot that I was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i hope you enjoyed that. theres gonna be a little bit more of finch next chapter, and then daveys BAC peaks a bunch. lots of bad decisions next chapter.  
> if you liked this, leave a comment or rb the post from my tumblr @penzyroamin!! (give me feedback and ill owe you one of the many rosie the riveter postcards i bought at the smithsonian bc im a slut for history)  
> thanks for reading, i hope you have a wonderful day!!! <3


	8. *AKB in "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" Voice* Sike Bitch, I'm Going To The Club!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David does not advocate drinking as a way to solve your problems. He does, however, do exactly that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please watch akb performing sixteen going on seventeen at bway backwards. im begging you

David hated planes that said they had wifi but said wifi didn’t do anything. He also hated getting off a plane and immediately getting bombarded with fifteen different updates on exactly how much shit had gone down.

_ Pettypettypettypetty: How did you know that I’m back? _

_ exPLORE mr marvin: im here lol _

David looked up to see Crutchie sitting with a cup of coffee and a mildly evil look on his face. Jojo and Buttons made identical confused noises.

Before David could even take said cup of coffee from Crutchie, he pulled it away. “This is my mochaccino, back, bitch.”

“I hate you,” David muttered, and Jojo tapped him on the shoulder. 

“We’re getting a ride from a friend, see you?”

David turned around, caffeine forgotten, to hug Jojo and Buttons tightly. “See you in a few days.” Buttons smiled and blew a kiss at him as they walked away, and Crutchie got up, setting down the coffee so he could get ahold of his crutches.

“So, how’d it go?”

David took the coffee and stared at it. “I kinda had sex with my old tenth grade crush.”

Crutchie tilted his head, taken aback, and blinked several times. “Well. Congrats.”

“Also, I think I’m still in love with Jack.”

Crutchie closed his eyes and turned his head up to the roof, as if asking for help from the cackling dungeon master in their cruel game of life. (Jack’s metaphor, not David’s. David wasn’t the  _ biggest  _ nerd in the world.)

After a while of struggling through the torturous system of May I Please Have My Luggage Please, they found themselves in a taxi, and God, David had missed being in New York. Living the strictly Uber Santa Cruz life had sort of been killing him.

Crutchie was leaning on the seat in front of him in their taxi when David decided to speak up. “Are you… okay?”

Crutchie turned to him. “Why’d you ask?”

David frowned at him. “If you’d been on the plane, you would have needed to check the bags under your eyes.”

“Fuck you,” Crutchie grumbled. “But if you must know, this is the first place I’ve gone besides my studio for the past two days.”

They were both silent for a second, and David finally spoke up. “May I ask why?”

Crutchie shot a nervous look at the taxi driver. “I’ll tell you when we get to your place.”

As soon as they did, David tipped the driver and pulled Crutchie into his apartment. “What the fuck, answers, please!”

Crutchie looked at the roof again, and David pinched him. “Dickface! Answers!”

“You have to promise you won’t judge.”

David shot him a  _ could I really  _ look, and Crutchie groaned. “Okay, so I had sex with someone, and I don’t know who.”

David put his head in his hands. “And I think  _ I’m  _ bad.”

 

He held a counsel in his living room later that day. Sarah was sitting on one side of his couch, with Katherine on the armrest right next to her, braiding her hair. Spot, who kept shooting curious glances at Katherine, as if to say  _ why the fuck is she here all of a sudden,  _ was perched on the counter that seperated David’s kitchen and living room, and Crutchie was lounged across the rest of the couch. David was pacing in front of his TV, thinking a little too fast for his own good.

“So Crutchie’s become a hermit and Spot nearly ran over a man and almost had his license taken away.”

Spot shrugged. “I’m gay, I don’t drive.”

Katherine stared at him. “Don’t you have, like, three kids? What do you do, Uber?”

Spot blinked. “You know, I was about to ask why you’re here, but that was good, so you can stay.”

“Wow, thanks,” Katherine said dryly, and Sarah laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the back of Katherine’s hand.

David pointed at the two of them. “Any disasters in the lesbian quadrant?”

Sarah, bless her, didn’t argue about the fraction involved in quadrants. “Kathy has news for you. Besides that, nope.”

David didn’t let himself worry about that. “So dumpster fire statistic is only three out of five. We’re doing okay, I guess.”

Sarah leaned back and propped her feet in Crutchie’s lap. “God, if Buttons was here she’d insist we go to a bar and get wasted off our asses.”

Everyone laughed for a second before they all stopped, and David shot a look at his friends.

“I mean…” Crutchie said eventually. “Why not?”

David frowned. “Who’d drive?”

“Uber,” Spot joked, then paled. “Fuck, I have children. Wait, yeah, they’re at Smalls and Sniper’s. We’re good.”

Crutchie frowned at him. “How are your kids still alive?”

Spot stared at him for roughly five seconds with an expression that David would really need to ask about before he shrugged.

Sarah looked around the room. “So Spot’s kids are taken care of. And we’re going to Uber. Meet back at David’s so he can take care of us all when we’re hungover?”

Everyone agreed as David spluttered out an objection, and before he knew it, they were packed in an Uber, heading to a place that Crutchie vaguely described as “having alcohol.”

 

Jack wasn’t there because he wanted to be. Frankly, he was only there because Elmer had dragged him after insisting that he needed to loosen up. He would rather be anywhere else than a half-empty bar filled with half-sticky chairs and abandoned cups and David Jacobs.

Elmer took a slow sip of his drink, in a uniquely dainty way that Jack wasn’t aware one could drink tequila. “So what’re you going to do?” he asked against the rim of his glass, and Jack groaned. 

“I don’t know!” 

Elmer looked at him like he was an idiot, and Jack tried to discreetly point at David and his friends, including a Katherine who really didn’t seem to be doing much more than occasionally take a drink of whatever she was holding and giggle over something with Sarah. 

More specifically, he tried to point at the empty shot glass, the contents of which David had just thrown back like tomorrow was completely dead to him.

“He saw me, and he started drinking with a vengeance. Clearly, he’s not happy to see me.”

Elmer snorted. “I have no clue how you managed to get as far as you did in life with this attitude. Negative feelings don’t ruin your chances, they just make the outcome different.”

Jack gritted his teeth. “I am  _ not  _ here to have sex with Davey.”

Elmer tilted his head. “Why the hell wouldn’t you be? I’m sorry, but with that shirt to bring out his eyes, that is a five course meal of a man. You’re goddamn lucky I’m not going after him.”

Jack wanted to say,  _ be my guest!  _ He wanted to not give a shit, and to not recognize that the green in David’s shirt would bring out the little green elements of the hazel in his eyes.

But goddammit, Elmer had a tiny point, and Jack hated his taste in men.

 

“Why,” David hissed to Katherine in a low voice, “is he here.”

“I don’t know!” she said, whisper-shouting at him as he proceeded on his mission to drink enough to forget that Jack Kelly existed. “I don’t know why he’s here, I don’t know why Race isn’t here, I don’t know why he’s looking at his drink like it killed a dog in front of him!”

David was starting to painfully recall that Katherine was a rambling drunk. He was rescued by Spot dragging him to a quieter corner.

Then he saw the look on his face, and he feared that instead of being rescued, he had probably just been inducted in a whole new disaster.

Before he could even speak, Spot decided to bring him up to speed in the span of several seconds.

“So I had sex with Crutchie and he doesn’t remember that it was me and if he doesn’t stop smiling I’m going to do it again.”

David buried his head in his hands. “Why can’t we be content to stick to one disaster at a time?” Spot shrugged, and David looked at him through his fingers.

“So, uh, just to make sure, you aren’t…” He removed one hand from his face-shield to wave it in the general direction of Spot’s stomach, and Spot scowled.

“ _ No.  _ Christ, Davey, I learned my lesson after three.”

“Just making sure,” he said, and then shot a look over to where Crutchie was making semi-violent hand motions and describing one of his clients a bit too loudly. “So…”

Spot crossed his arms. “So?”

“Just one night, or…. actual feelings?”

For a long time before they got to know each other better, David had been pretty much terrified of Spot. Never mind the fact that a tiny part of David was afraid of anyone taller than him, Spot just generally projected  _ do not fuck with me  _ vibes. But after a while, David had gotten used to it, and it had just become part of the Spot he knew and loved: Brooklyn accent, vertical challenge, affinity for striped shirts, and all.

But the look on Spot’s face made David scared of him all over again.

Eventually, the tension drained out of his expression, and David let himself relax. 

“Little bit of actual feelings,” Spot said, and David physically felt his life getting more confusing.

 

David didn’t know exactly what he was feeling. Anger, maybe, because he was talking to Jack. Sadness, maybe, because he was talking to Jack. 

Also, based on Sarah’s detailed description that she gave him the next day about how he acted, maybe a little turned on, because the pretzels that the bartender tried to force upon him were really good. No, he was kidding. If he was turned on, it was clearly because of Jack. Goddammit, keep up!

“So,” David said, taking a long drink of Drink Number Who Knew How Many, “what’re you doing here?” He hated how unsteadily the words came out.

Jack frowned. “Same as you, but not really, because I’m not drinking as much, and you seem like a man on a mission.”

David finished the drink and set it down. “Life’s a shitshow,” he proclaimed, loud enough that the woman in the corner who  _ really  _ looked like life wasn’t going her way glared at him. “Can’t get weirder.”

“There could be aliens,” Jack said. “That’d make things weirder. Still not an answer.”

David frowned, eyes fixed firmly on the empty glass, refusing to let himself look at Jack. “I don’t need a reason.”

Jack leaned forwards, trying to catch his eye. “But you have one.”

David felt Jack’s hand on his own and pushed him away, as fiercely as he could after probably too many drinks. “Get away from me!” Again, his not being aware of his surroundings struck back. The few people around them that they didn’t know visibly started at his sudden yell, and Jack frowned at him.

“You’re drunker than I thought.”

“I’m fine,” David said quickly, pushing himself off the barstool and then almost immediately tripping.

 

“Shit,” Jack muttered, motioning at Katherine and Sarah that he could handle it. “Davey?”

“I’m--” David said, trying to pick himself, and Jack stopped him, taking his arms.

“You’re too drunk, and we need to get you home.” Jack helped him up, and David didn’t seem to have the heart to push him away again.

“I’ll just get a cab,” he said weakly, and Jack sighed.

“You’ll just trip halfway to your door.”

David apparently didn’t have the heart to dispute that claim. “Fine,” he said, still grumbling as Jack placed a hand on his shoulder and helped him out to the street.

He grumbled all the way back to his apartment. Jack had forgotten exactly how stubborn David was, and he found himself smiling when David tried to get the taxi driver to agree with him that yes, it was very rude to try and take your ex home.

God, that poor taxi driver. Jack made sure to tip them extra.

Eventually, he managed to get David over to the door of his apartment, one hand on the small of his back to make sure he didn’t fall over as he unlocked it. When he managed to, he opened the door and braced himself with one hand to keep himself somewhat steady.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, and Jack felt his smile widen because goddammit, there was still a little part of his heart that couldn’t resist David.

“No problem.” They both stood there for a moment, and Jack felt himself straining for words, scared of saying the wrong thing when David was finally letting his guard down just a little, when he was finally not angry. “Do you need help with anything.”

David shook his head. “I’ll just sleep on the…” He paused like he was searching for the word. “Couch.” He smiled slightly. 

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. “Drink some water and get some sleep, alright?”

“I’ve gotten drunk before, Jackie-- Jack.” David looked down, and Jack found it hard to breathe for a moment.

“Good night.”

David looked back up and nodded.

After a moment of brief hesitation, Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead and turned around swiftly, leaving before David’s brain could catch up with present time.

 

_ “I know it’s not much,” David was talking faster than his brain could work, he just needed to get it all out at once, “but it’s what I could afford and I would ha--” _

_ “Davey,” Jack said softly, a fond smile gracing his lips. “I love it. I love you.” He kissed his forehead. “I love you, okay? I don’t care whether you give me nothing or flowers or the entire world. I love you.” _

 

David woke up, not with a start, but with the painfully settled feeling that when he opened his eyes, he’d know something was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i hope you liked that sort-of-filler but also woah!! crazy stuff happening!! penzy i thought this was sprace!!! actually, my friends, ella (illinoise on here, go read every last one of her fics right fucking now) have decided upon a crusade for spot/crutchie, so here we are.  
> anyways, im going to go do stuff. comment and ill owe you half of a blueberry fig bar  
> have a lovely day <3


	9. This Is A Filler Chapter But There's Cool Stuff So Read It Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David fights a hangover, Jack fights his Own Disaster Mind, they both think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so i had a side plot in here that i ended up cutting and it made up most of this chapter so i had nothing to put in this chapter so its just a bunch of sad thoughts and buildup for next chapter. have fun  
> (alternate title: more flashbacks and more sad)

David’s apartment had never been filled with such a complete sense of misery. Granted, it was filled with five hungover twenty-somethings, but still, every person in his kitchen looked like they want to sleep for another two centuries.

“So,” Sarah eventually said into her cup of coffee, “no one’s doing anything today.”

Spot groaned, his face still buried in a pillow that he brought to the table for that specific purpose. “I’d go to church, but…” He waved one hand, and everyone immediately understood.

“I’m never going drinking with you guys again.” Katherine took her toast out of the toaster. David couldn’t even bring himself to object. “I might not even drink again,” she added, and Sarah laughed before she clutched her temples. Katherine sighed. “You’re right.”

David was starting to consider moving, maybe doing something productive, before he remembered the events that occurred right before he went to sleep and decided to groan really loudly and search for soup.

They sat in silence for a while until Crutchie spoke up. “Good news is I didn’t have a forgotten-but-I-know-it-happened one night stand this time.”

David wrinkled his nose. “How’d you say all those words?” The alarm on his microwave went off, and he slowly got up to stuff his face with leftover soup.

Spot grumbled something about “Weird-ass hangover food,” and David flipped him off with the hand that wasn’t holding his spoon.

“I need food,” he said, then shoveled more chicken noodle soup in his mouth.

He might have been gay as hell, and therefore had standards,  but the little left-over grossness from Les had rubbed off on him. Also, he hadn’t eaten in roughly fifteen hours.

They all went about the kitchen in silence. It wasn’t for thirty minutes that Katherine asked, “What time is it?”

David shot a lazy glance at the clock on his oven. “Little after noon.”

She frowned. “Don’t you have a meeting with Jack at half past twelve?”

On one hand, he hated that Race wasn’t even considered part of the equation anymore. On the other, she was right.

“Fuck!” He bolted up and half considered getting on the subway in his pajamas before he sprinted to his bedroom for Immediate High-Speed Intervention.

 

David skid up to the entrance five minutes late. Jack didn’t know the reason, although he would find out in not too much time that it was because he had searched through his clean but unfolded laundry to find the shirt that would match his pants. Jack looked up from his phone, standing a few feet away from Anthony, and was prepared to stop David from apologizing before he actually saw him.

David was flushed red from running, looked frantic, and definitely was looking at Jack like he either wanted to kill Jack or kill Anthony and then do things to Jack that Jack  _ could not think about because he was engaged and also was in a public place and while it wasn't a federal crime to get too turned on outside Jack still felt like it was indecent. _

Anyways. Jack was doing fine. Everything was good. He was absolutely not wondering if David remembered what had happened last night, not that anything awful had happened, because Jack wasn’t that awful of a person that he would sleep with his ex while he was engaged, especially when his ex was drunk, and oh god Jack was spiraling and David was going inside the building so Jack should follow him.

Fuck David, but not actually fuck David, Jack wasn’t a bad person, except wasn’t he technically? Because what was happening was emotional infidelity, right? Just because it wasn’t physical didn’t mean it wasn’t sort of cheating?

Jack resisted the urge to bury his hands in his face, and instead followed Anthony and David up the stairs to where David started pulling out files and talking about how they had this and this and they needed to turn this in, until something about flowers caught his attention.

“I talked to Spot,” David said, “and we’ve pretty much got flowers done. No fancy flower meanings or anything, but they’ll look good as fuck.”

Anthony frowned, and David shrugged.

“No one cares about the meaning of things if they look nice on the outside.”

 

“Davey? David?” Crutchie snapped his fingers in front of David’s face, and he started.

“What?” 

Crutchie rolled his eyes. “Can you get your head out of the clouds for like six minutes and stop eye-fucking Jack?”

David was silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to counter that. “I… I wasn’t.”

“Your pupils are the size of the goddamn sun.”

David sighed and took a gulp of his coffee. When he didn’t say anything, Crutchie barreled on.

“So I was thinking black or dark blue for their suits, and then we can incorporate yellow with their ties and the pocket squares.”

David blinked at him, and Crutchie rolled his eyes once again. “The ties and the handkerchiefs in the pocket of the jacket.”

“Thank you. That sounds nice, we know you’re the expert here…” He trailed off as he thought for a moment. “Wait, why the shit are you telling me this? You never tell me this stuff. I let you do your thing and you let me do my thing and it’s good.”

Crutchie fiddled with the strap of one of his crutches. “Maybe I wanted a change.”

“You hate change. You almost revolted when your favorite deli changed their menu.”

Crutchie mumbled something about brioche buns and then threw his hands in the air. “Fine, alright. I didn’t bring you in here to talk about the suits.”

David looked at him critically, waiting for an actual reason. 

“Do you think Spot’s being weird around me?”

Basically, Crutchie was asking him if Spot, whom he had had sex with but had been too drunk to remember the identity of, was being weird around him.

“Give me just a sec,” David said quickly, stood up, walked into the bathroom, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

 

Jack could feel his heart pounding as David scrutinized the list that he and Anthony had made of songs that they wanted played at their wedding and their sort of “blacklist”. David’s eyes seemed to scan the entire page along with every weakness and insecurity that Jack had related to each word and song.

Songs that he and David had listened to, songs that David had introduced him to, songs that had played at clubs and bars that they had gone to: that had been the soundtrack of his life the last three years of college. It had been undoubtedly marked with David’s charm the way that all of those three years had been, the way that some people make such a permanent impression on a time in your life that they are irreversibly connected to that time.

That had been his soundtrack of that time-- a soundtrack of love, and of hope for the future.

And when he had put that list together, he had been painfully reminded of it.  

Sometimes, when he talked to couples, they would mention having a “song,” one that they linked with their partner no matter what.

He and David hadn’t had a song. They hadn’t had one thing. They had entire playlists, sounds, melodies, lyrics that it had seemed were written for them and them alone. They spent days when David finished his essays and Jack was procrastinating on his paintings just laying on a couch or on one of their beds, music floating around the room as if it were threaded between the molecules of oxygen they breathed.

There had been tens, maybe even a hundred or more songs that David had laughed when they started playing. Tens, maybe hundreds of songs that still made Jack feel that mix of happy-sad-angry-love that only David placed in his heart.

He and Anthony didn’t have a soundtrack. They didn’t have a song. When Jack had been making that list, a list that should have been them, it should have been songs about love and being in love and falling in love that made Jack think of Anthony, but they only made him think of lazy afternoons and murmured facts about biochemistry or overheard conference calls about  _ hey Crutchie do yellow and white stripes match better with dark green or denim blue?  _

Jack tried not to break as Anthony leaned into his shoulder and David ran his finger over the corner of a seemingly meaningless piece of paper that ended up carrying a list of lies and half-truths that were all Jack had left to comfort him.

He would be fine. Everything about his life was fine, it was good, it was great.

He could make things work with Anthony. He _ would  _ make things work with Anthony.

He just didn’t know how he was going to do it when David Jacobs was there, tapping his fingers subconsciously to a song Jack could only wish to hear.

 

_ Jack didn’t really register anything other than that they were laughing, at first. _

_ David’s roommate was on a date with his girlfriend, David had finished all his projects and assignments early, Jack’s projects were… either done or ignored in favor of David. The two of them had been sitting on the couch, and Jack had just been thinking about how grateful he was that David and his roommate had an apartment instead of a dorm when David stood up suddenly and grabbed his phone, scrolling through it at top speed. _

_ “Dave,” Jack said, both amused and confused, “what’re you doing?” _

_ David put on a song that Jack didn’t recognize-- a woman was singing it, and it was clearly a love song, modern but not modern enough for Jack to immediately recognize it. Jack laughed but took David’s hand when it was held out, and when David had pulled Jack close, Jack got an answer to his question. _

_ “I’m dancing. With you.” _

_ They swayed along to the music, and Jack felt his mind wandering. He and David’s relationship was usually upbeat and fast-paced. They liked to see whatever the world had to offer, like if they waited another day, it would be gone. Obviously, they had their fair share of stress, their fair share of nights when Jack had to text David just to remind him to sleep. But standing there with him, David’s head pressed into his shoulder, Jack could find himself imagining something where they had seen a lot of the world and were ready to experience it from their own place.  _

_ Maybe New York City. Maybe that was where they’d go, get an apartment, live there together. Jack would paint and David would get his masters and they would be happy, and they would have more moments like their current one: quiet and peaceful and contentedly in love. _

 

David found himself running his fingers over the spine of his book as he read it, a nervous habit he wasn’t sure from where he’d picked up. At the rate he was going, the spine of  Pride and Prejudice would be completely worn down by the time Mr. Darcy proposed for the first time, but David wasn’t really worried. He had more things to worry about, i.e. Jack’s list of songs and how David still hadn’t deleted the playlist he’d made in college of all the songs that had been a part of their relationship.

A lot of the songs on Jack’s list were recent-- too recent to be affected with memories of David. To be  _ tainted,  _ David thought bitterly. 

Maybe, in his head, he couldn’t escape that idea; he couldn’t leave behind the thought that Jack’s life between the Pre and Post David Eras was just the part of his life that Jack wasn’t able to think back on without unwelcome memories.

Maybe he didn’t like the idea of losing his heart and losing his mind to someone who let their ending determine his memory of everything else about them. He wasn’t sure that that was what Jack was doing, but he had never been one to be above paranoia.

Maybe David had been doing just that for so long that he was finally starting to see that Jack might have been doing the same.

Even so, ignoring the tears and the worries and the fears and the creeping sense that David was doing something wrong, he pressed play on the playlist and he let himself remember.

He didn’t just remember sadness, and anger, and all the things at the end that had come out so explosively that they had ruined everything else. He let himself remember their joy, and their  _ love,  _ that he might have been wrong to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, im still not completely thrilled with that. im just glad the experience is over, because from this point on, shit gets WILD WILD WILD WILD WILD. im legit so hyped to write chapters 10 and 11, guys. you should be so excited to read them. stuff. goes. down.  
> so yeah! we've got jack being super into davey and davey being super into jack and jack desperately trying to preserve him and race's relationship and just a buncha SHIT. also, music. thatll come in next chapter.  
> if you liked this, drop me a comment (ill owe you the entire emotion album (javids lil dance was originally to "run away with me" because im a hoe for carly but oh yeah that scene was in like 2010-ish so. nope) ) and maybe go rb the post on my tumblr, @penzyroamin!!! (come! say! hi! dont ask if you can message me! just do it! if you mention wanting to message me, I. WILL. FORGET. I AM THE WORST. JUST MESSAGE ME.)   
> love you, thanks for reading, have a lovely day and make better choices than THESE DUMBASSES!


	10. Bruno Mars Is A Literal Catalyst For The Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parents, Parent Figures, and Sad Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have fun dgsdgsjhdgs

Jack wasn’t listening to shit. Jack was dead to the world. Jack could not have been reached if a whistle was blown directly into his eardrums. Someone probably could have stripped right next to him and he would not have even blinked.

Anthony was telling him something, about songs and dances and plans, and Jack was staring through the few inches between David’s office door and the frame.

David wasn’t doing much, just laughing with Spot and swaying slightly to some music that Sniper had been playing, but Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

He forced himself to and looked at Anthony. Anthony, his fiancé, whos strained smile was probably Jack’s fault.

Jack was a shitty person, he was completely sure of it. Anthony was perfect-- handsome, funny, smart, good with kids. Jack had met him two years after he and David broke up, and it had been thrilling. Finally, someone who made him laugh and kissed without thought to the world around them and seemed so… ideal.

“Okay?” Anthony asked, and Jack forced a smile. He could be happy. He was always happy as long as he had someone. Anthony was someone. He was enough. He was more than enough, he was perfect, and Jack was having a lapse of judgement. A lapse that Anthony didn’t deserve, and Jack should have been better than, but he ended up not being able to avoid.

“Okay,” he said, and Anthony pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

He followed Anthony out of the building, holding his hand tightly just remind himself that he had someone. To remind himself that he could make things right and live his life as happily as he could.

But he couldn’t keep himself from looking behind his shoulder to where David was opening his office door and grinning widely.

He and Anthony were back at their apartment in not too long, and Anthony laid down on the couch, dragging Jack with him, and started scrolling through his phone. “So Davey wants us to choose the song from our list that we want for our first dance.”

Jack nodded, and Anthony continued. “So I put together your list on my Spotify so we can sort through them.”

They spent a half hour feeling normal. Anthony laughed when Jack played dumb songs, Jack laughed when Anthony played the world’s most heterosexual songs, Jack managed to forget the world around them and the people in that world.

Anthony snorted as Jack turned off his latest joke pick, and he seized the phone. “Gimme. Okay, what do you think of this?”

“Just The Way You Are” was a great song. Jack had listened to it a million times when it first came out. It was just that it had come out in 2010, so about seven hundred and fifty thousand of those million times had been with David.

_“Jackie, would you be okay with me leaving you for Bruno Mars?”_

_“Will_ you _be okay with_ me _leaving you for Bruno Mars?”_

Anthony picked up that something was wrong, not when Jack’s shoulders tensed and he closed his eyes, but when Jack put his hand over his mouth and opened his eyes so that tears could leak out of them.

He immediately paused the song and knelt down in front of Jack, hands hovering over his knees. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice wavering between gentle and panicked.

Jack didn’t say anything, he let himself cry silently, the kind when you hold in gasps but you can’t hold back tears.

He’d listened to the song multiple times after he and David broke up-- never deliberately to remember the relationship, but just because he was at a club or in the car and the radio was playing it and it was a nice song.

But that was in his After David part of life, when he was able to block out the inevitable feeling that that David should have been next to him. When Anthony pressed play, Jack was overwhelmed by the feeling that, as soon as David had come back into his life, still smiling and still acting like he knew secrets that no one else did, he started missing him more than ever.

He still saw David. David was still there. He didn’t miss his presence, he missed being able to smile at him and get a smile back, he missed looking carefully into David’s eyes as David thought about the future, and he missed playing on his phone while David wrote (until a throat was cleared and Jack looked up to David’s grin and a finished, printed essay before he was kissed soundly.)

He missed being with David, and he didn’t think he ever would stop missing that.

As tears kept flowing, Anthony hummed quietly. “It’s alright. We… we won’t use that one.”

Jack desperately wanted to tell him that that wouldn’t fix it, he wanted to yell that Anthony couldn’t fix him, he couldn’t make Jack stop loving David, no one could, and god, Jack was so _fucking_ sorry, but he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. He wanted to scream it loud enough for the words to rip out of his throat like they caused him physical pain to say. But all he could do was curl up and block out every else.

 

“So, Crutchie thinks you’re being weird.”

Spot looked ready to face-plant into his cheese danish. “Are. You. Fucking me.”

“Too angry for me,” David mused. “I’ll stick with moping over Jack.”

Spot looked up from the danish. (The danish’s chance of becoming a face-mask, percentage-wise, was skyrocketing by the second.) “How’s that deal going?”

David, suddenly very uncomfortable with eye contact, looked down at his coffee, the only thing in the room that he trusted, at the moment, including Spot and the egg sandwiches in the not-trusted list.

“Y’know…. it’s going.”

Spot scoffed, and David looked up just in time to see Spot’s skeptical look sink into something more genuinely caring. “Did he say something?”

David remembered Jack kissing his forehead clear as day, but struggled to get a mental snapshot of the look on Jack’s face. After a while of him not speaking, Spot seemed to understand.

“Talk to someone about it, okay? Maybe Sarah?” he offered, and David smiled at him, trying to hide the tinge of sadness that he knew would affect it.

“Thanks, Spot.” Spot shrugged, almost modest, and David’s smile widened. “When did you get insightful?”

“After the three kids. Or maybe somewhere in between two and three.”

 

Jack, normally, when dealing with the giant fucking problem that was David being a part of his life, would not have chose to go directly to David’s sister’s bakery. However, he wanted comfort food, and he didn’t exactly know anywhere better for that.

He had been aimlessly picking at his pie for about ten minutes, (it was delicious pie, but he didn’t exactly have the energy to perform the fine motor skills that were involved in eating it,) and Sarah sat down across the little table he was sitting at.

“You doing okay?” she asked, and Jack frowned up at her.

(God, no wonder David didn’t have a drop of insecurity in his masculinity. He’d grown up literally looking up at Sarah, and Jack did it once and felt a unique brand of fear.)

He decided on a long sigh and more picking at his pie as an appropriate response. He could feel Sarah’s skeptical look burning into his skull, and eventually looked up because he pitied the little brain cells being fried by her metaphorical lazer-eyes.

“Sure,” he said eventually, and realized only when she rolled her eyes that maybe that wasn’t the most convincing answer.

“Kelly,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms, “you can’t lie for shit.”

They had a brief stare-off before he surrendered. “What has Davey told you?”

“Lots of stuff you don’t tell your twin’s ex.”

He groaned loudly and shoved about a third of the slice of pie in his mouth. Sarah wrinkled her nose.

“You’re a fucking manchild.” He shrugged, and she rolled her eyes once again. “You’re messing him up bad, you know that?”

That was possibly important, so Jack swallowed his pie and raised an eyebrow for her to continue.

“You’re ridiculous.” He waited, and she gave up. “You hurt him badly, but at least you vanished. Now you’re back, and you’re the you he loves, not the you he managed to turn into a monster inside his brain.”

Part of his mind was yelling, _LOVES????? LOVES????????? PRESENT TENSE?????_ But the more decent part of him was saying, _shit._

He knew David trusted Sarah more than anyone on Earth, and he knew that Sarah knew David better than anyone else did. So if Sarah was telling him that he fucked up really bad and he hurt David a lot, then she was right.

And of course, Jack had known that he was a dick. Their breakup had been messy, and hurtful, and David hadn’t deserved the things Jack said.

He’d just….. he’d been so angry. He was terrified that David would be gone sooner or later, and that the perfect feeling of having somebody that Jack was finally getting used to would be gone. He had wanted that feeling to stay more than anything else. He had wanted to share a home with David and wake up in the morning next to him and be with him.

If he dug deep, part of him could admit that it wasn’t a “had” situation. He missed being with David, and he wished that he could be with him again.

It just tore him apart to know that whatever cruel piece of his heart made him love who he loved decided that Anthony, who was so thoroughly perfect, wasn’t perfect for him.

Sometime while he was thinking, Sarah must have gotten up, because when she sat back down, she passed a steaming mug over to him.

“Hot chocolate,” she said. “My mom’s recipe.”

“Why are you not doing the thing where you’re scary as hell?” Jack asked after a while of him staring at the mug, waiting for it to cool off. Sarah tilted her head, her eyes becoming cooler in mere seconds.

“You’re still scary,” he said quickly, and she laughed. “Just not…”

“Terrifying?” she said, and he nodded. She clicked her tongue, thinking. “I talked with Kath about… your situation. Everything that’s going on, how everyone’s feeling… You’re a lot of things, but you don’t lie to Kath. And I trust Kath to not lie to me. So if she’s telling me you’ve got some good in you, you do.”

God, Jack loved Katherine so much. She was out there working her lesbian magic and finding herself a scary girlfriend and making sure Jack wasn’t stomped on by Sarah Jacobs and her expensive heels.

 

David related certain voices of people he cared about to feelings. His mother was safety, Sarah was support, Les, (although betraying the brother code and continuing to not tell David exactly what foreign country’s hotel room he was sending him selfies from,) he related to humor. Crutchie was camaraderie, Spot was sympathy, and Jack was…. complicated.

(He had asked himself if he even cared about Jack, but he’d come to the conclusion that he might as well rather face it than avoid it. He cared about Jack. He loved him so much it hurt sometimes.)

Jack, for years, had been love, and happiness. A sort of excitement for facing the future. And then he had been anger, and grief, and as cliche as it was to think, heartbreak.

And as David scrolled through his contact, Jack was much more like melancholy. A bitter-sweet feeling of loving but not being able to be loved back. Missing someone who was still right there.

Jack’s voice made him feel more emotions at once than anyone else did, and that had always been the way things were. Even years after they had broken up, when David had drank too much and called him, filled with a kind of courage that only rage causes, just hearing his voice saying that he wasn’t there, but leave a message and he’d call back, had been enough to break him.

Needless to say, Jack had not called him back after that night.

But as David pressed his ear to his phone and heard it being answered, a feeling of relief rushed over him.

“David!”

His father’s voice had always made him feel more important than anything else. Like he was six again, and he was the center of his own little universe.

David tucked one leg under him, carrying on the noble gay tradition of never sitting properly. “Hi, Papa.”

He heard a small crash before his father’s voice came through again. “Are you alright? You don’t call early…”

David tipped his head back, staring up at his ceiling. “Just wanted to call, check in, see if Mama’s in total disrepair now that Santa Cruz is once again lost without me.”

“Only one building broke, don’t worry. You kicked Yiddish back into her, though.”

David laughed at the thought. “What, has actually talking to someone in her first language sent her back?”

“Ah, it would for all of us. Your sister has a girlfriend, I hear.”

He hummed. “Katherine. Very sweet, incredibly smart.”

“Good. You? A boyfriend?” David bit his lip, then hissed when he tasted blood. Mayer was annoyingly perceptive. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, and no. Nobody.” He could feel the doubt from across the country. “Really.”

Mayer hummed. “Want to speak with your mother?”

“That’d be great.”

“Alright. Love you, David.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

In seconds, Esther was on the phone. “David!”

Charlotte and Cordelia both managed to find their ways on and off his lap before he was done talking with her, both of them clearly prioritizing themselves over fast-paced Yiddish and emotional advice. David loved his cats, but they were gremlins sometimes.

David considered bring up Jack, but decided against it. His parents didn’t need that on their plates. So instead he laughed about trying to figure out where Les was and promised to try and convince him to finish college, and eventually said goodbye.

After the call ended, he was left with a dilemma. He needed to talk to someone with life experience whom he trusted, but his parents didn’t deserve to have even more of his shit dumped on them, and he figured it would be strange to call any of his old teachers.

“Heeey! It’s David from almost two decades ago! Want to hear about my emotional issues?” seemed like a weird introduction.

But he’d ran through his actual parents, so his next parent figure would be the best option.

“Davey? Kid, it’s been years, how are you?”

David smiled reflexively. “Hey, Ms. Medda.” (Yes, his ex’s mother was his next choice. Get off his back, David was trying his best.) “Y’know, planning weddings, making pretty things, the works.”

“My son isn’t driving you up the wall?” He could hear pure warmth radiating out of her voice, and he remembered why she’d been the first person he’d gone to in college when the stress had gotten to be too much.

David leaned back. “He’s always done that, ma’am, nothing abnormal.”

Medda clicked her tongue. “Still won’t give up the ma’am, will you?”

“No, ma’am.” They both laughed, and David tried to decide what to say. “Do you… know his fiancé well?”

“I’ve met him a few times. Nice kid. You won’t say a word to Jack?”

“Of course not,” David said, and Medda sighed.

“I don’t think Jack’s as happy as he should be.”

Words caught in David’s throat. “Explain?”

“I know my son,” Medda said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “He doesn’t need someone to balance him, he needs someone to match him. Anthony is… ideal. If I wasn’t Jack’s mother, and lord knows I’ve got enough to remind me of that, I’d think it was right.” David could picture her shaking her head. “They’re both good kids, but just from where I am, they’re not right. Last time Jack was with someone that matched him, made him _better…_ that was you.”

David didn’t know when he had started crying. He forced tears out of his voice, trying to not betray himself. “You… they’re good, they’re perfect.”

He hated the sympathy dripping from Medda’s voice. “Maybe. I’m not there, I’m not seeing what you are. But my son has never sounded as happy talking about Anthony as he has talking about you.”

 

Jack wasn’t sure when walking into his own home became difficult.

Anthony looked up from his paperwork when Jack opened the door. “Hey,” he said softly, and Jack smiled. They stood in silence for a moment, and Anthony motioned to Jack’s hands. “You got me flowers?” he said, phrasing it as a question but still smiling like it wasn’t one.

Jack sat down on the couch next to Anthony, handing them to him. “Yeah. Daisies. Your favorite.”

Anthony was still smiling, but it became almost uncertain. “Actually, uh. Sunflowers.”

Jack blinked. “I thought--”

Anthony shrugged one shoulder. “They… they used to be. But now, sunflowers.”

“Oh.”

They met each other’s eyes briefly, and then both looked away. Jack felt something break almost tangibly, and he ran his thumb over the dime inside his pocket, just for something to do.

“They’re…” Anthony started, and seemed to run out of energy to complete the sentence. “I’ll go put them in a vase.”

Jack nodded, empty, and as Anthony walked away, Jack put his head in one hand.

He’d read so many books, watched so many movies, about relationships that failed. Over half of relationships did, god, he didn’t know why he thought he’d be any different. All those stories where one person tried, they tried so goddamn hard to hold things together, while the other person just watched and waited for the inevitable collapse.

Jack swore he’d tried to fix things. He’d tried so hard it had nearly broken him, swearing and fighting with all that he had to block David out of his heart and keep Anthony inside it.

Let the record show that Jack Kelly had tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like everyone here has the right to know that i basically did nothing while writing this except listen to "the last five years" and reread that one part of attachments where lincoln thinks about his ex gf and especially that part where said ex gf talks about how you know when a relationship ends  
> anyways. next up is chapter eleven!!!! i think its fair to say that the next one is... one with a lot building up to it. i shall say no more.  
> (p.s. i love davey "parent figures include my ex's mom" jacobs)  
> comment and ill owe you an itunes gift card with fifty cents left on it!!!! (and maybe rb the post for this on my tumblr, @penzyroamin.... come chat with me!!!!)  
> thanks for reading, have a lovely day <3333


	11. OH SHIT!!!! OH FUCK!!!!!! OH DAMN!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They think about the past and try to work out their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just gonna say it-- if this chapter doesnt give yall a giant payoff for sticking with this youre legally entitled to sue me  
> also little announcement in the end notes so read that

Jack didn’t know what to do.

He knew what the logical choice was: confess everything to Anthony, break off the engagement, see if they could get back their deposits and use them towards moving out. Or Anthony could use them towards moving out. And they would go through that awful process and break the news to everyone and hopefully, in a few years, they’d be okay.

But he didn’t know if he could do that without shattering like glass.

He couldn’t just leave Anthony, when he knew how much being left behind hurt. He didn’t want to see the look on his face, and he didn’t want to hurt him. Goddammit, Jack had never meant to hurt anyone. He’d never meant for anything in the past few months to happen.

Jack thrived off of love, off loving people and being loved back. Not even always romantically, but just knowing that people cared about him gave him a little bit more courage. It helped him care about himself, to be honest.

Loving someone was never supposed to hurt him as much as loving David did.

He walked into the kitchen to see Anthony drinking orange juice directly out of the carton. Anthony looked up, and his eyebrows raised, like he was almost surprised to see Jack there.

“Nasty,” Jack murmured when Anthony went back to his orange juice, and Anthony shrugged one shoulder. They went through their usual morning, except silent in the way their mornings had never been before David came back into Jack’s life, still sarcastic and smart and beautiful.

Eventually, after a few more tense, silent minutes, Jack stood up. “I’m going to Medda’s.”

Anthony blinked. “It’s Saturday?”

“What, I can’t see my mom on Saturdays?” It came out sharper than he intended, and both of them looked down.

Jack stared at the stain on the tile floor that they had never gotten around to getting off after Katherine had somehow managed to spill nail polish underneath the table. When he finally looked up, Anthony was putting his cereal bowl into the dishwasher.

He wished it didn’t feel like a crime to turn his back and walk out of their apartment.

In less than a half an hour, he was knocking on the door of Medda’s townhouse. She opened the door after a few seconds and her expression instantly switched from cordial to a kind of loving sadness, as if she could sense Jack wavering on the edge of tears at any moment. Maybe she did sense it, exactly the way she’d understood Jack since the day she took him in when he was eight.

She sighed. “Oh, honey.” She opened her arms, and Jack hugged her tightly.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said quietly, the words coming out as a mumble against her shoulder.

“No one can tell you what the right decision is,” Medda said eventually.

Jack closed his eyes tight enough for red shapes to start floating around his eyelids. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Medda didn’t ask whether or not he meant Anthony or David, and Jack was thankful that he wouldn’t have to unravel the threads of desperation for Anthony to not have to be dragged down and the knot in his stomach that formed every time that he remembered that David had been hurting, maybe was still hurting, because of Jack.

Medda nodded slowly, the motion nearly imperceptible. “But you shouldn’t have to hurt, either.”

The words sunk into Jack’s heart. “I don’t want to,” he said, feeling like he was twelve again and wanting nothing more than to hold on to her shoulders and cry. “I don’t want to feel like this.”

The little voice (his conscience? David?) that corrected him every time he said something wrong reminded him that there were a million ways that he could have made that sentence less vague.

He didn’t give a fuck. Medda understood, and even if no one else in the world did, the one person who had always tried to understand knowing what he meant was enough.

Well, two people had always tried to understand, but he couldn’t exactly cry to the second person about the second person.

 

David was having a day to himself, which was rare considering his mildly overwhelming family, friends, coworkers, and cats.

The cats still weren’t leaving him alone-- Charlotte was sitting in his lap, and Cordelia was trying to eat his Chips Ahoy.

But hey, he didn’t have work, and Spot was with his kids at Coney Island, and Katherine and Sarah were most likely either on a date or making fun of Katherine’s father, and Crutchie was at the doctor’s. (David wasn’t sure why, which was mildly concerning, given that Crutchie was sometimes uncomfortably truthful about everything from his love life to his medical status.)

So he was watching _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ to cool down after sobbing over _Moonlight_ and laying on his couch telling his cats about his feelings.

The bad part about David having alone time was that leaving David alone with his feelings inevitably lead to crying and conversations with cats. Luckily, he’d already gotten through both, so he assumed the worst was over.

His phone started ringing, and he looked down to check the contact name.

“ _Anthony (Race) Higgins”_. David looked up at his roof, groaned loudly, and answered the call.

“Hey, Race.”

“Davey, hi.” Race’s voice sounded unsteady, and David instantly realized it as the voice of someone who had recently been crying.

“What’s wrong?”

Race was silent for a while, and David was about to ask if he was still there when he spoke up. “Tell me about your parents.”

“In… in general?”

“Their love story. Them meeting, getting married, all that stuff.”

On one hand, David was worried about that. On the other, he loved talking about his family, and if it would make Race feel better…

“Well, my mom’s an immigrant. She came in from Poland, and moved in with a friend of a friend.” He paused to make sure Race was listening, then continued, “She met my dad while he was visiting his family-- sorry, would you be weirded out if I call them Mama and Papa? It’s just. It’s how I refer to them but I know a lot of other people think it’s a--”

“Davey, it’s fine.”

“Cool. So she met my papa when he was visiting his family-- his parents, my grandparents, are immigrants too, and they lived up where she was living. She met him, and he offered to help her with English. She was okay, but not great, and a lot of fucking assholes turned her away when she tried to get a job because of it, so she wanted to get better. He started helping her out, and she fell in love with him pretty quick. She says it was because he was never condescending or rude. He says it’s because he was too charming for her to resist.” It reminded him of Jack for a moment before he remembered that he was talking to Jack’s goddamn fiancé and he got back on track. “So she fell in love with him after a month or so and he started falling in love with her but about two months after they met, he had to go back home. But he’s really sure she’s the one so he tells her how he feels and then how he knows it's fast but asks if she wants to go with him back to Georgia.”

Race hummed. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah. So she said yes and they moved down there and it wasn’t easy-- my mama still gets shit for her accent, and my papa…” David trailed off, and remembered that he was trying to make Race feel better. Spilling out David’s entire Tragic Backstory wouldn’t exactly cheer anyone up.

“Well, he’s gotten hurt a few times. But they’re still together, and Sarah and I both support them financially whenever they need it. Anyways, they stayed there for a while and then my mama found out she was going to have me and Sarah, and they didn’t exactly like the idea of raising us in conservative Georgia, so they moved out to California, and that's… that’s them. Still as in love as thirty-two years ago.”

The line went silent. “Race?”

“I think Jack and I are over.”

David’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Oh.”

“I…” Race’s voice wavered, like he might cry again. “I don’t know if there’s someone else. I don’t think that there is, at least not… Not physically. Jack’s not like that. But it just feels like-- like something’s changed. Something that we can’t fix. We’ve tried.”

David had seen couples before that had had doubts before their wedding day, but listening to Race talk, something felt different. The way Race spoke, he seemed resigned. Like he had already given up, not just on a wedding, but on the relationship as a whole.

If David had been a worse person, he would have been happy. But instead, a pit just filled his stomach, because Race didn’t deserve that.

“Have you thought about talking to someone? A couples counselor, or…”

“What would it say about our relationship if we got a shrink before we even got married?”

David sighed. “That’s fair. So…”

“I’m going to talk to him about it when he gets home. I just wanted to give you a heads-up, and… well, honestly, it seemed like you’d listen. You seem like you’ve been through some tough shit, love-wise, so.”

He had no fucking clue.

David nodded, even though Race couldn’t see it. “Well… I’m sorry.” David said quietly, because he was. No matter how much he loved Jack, he was never going to be happy that someone else didn’t get to be with him as much as they wanted to be.

“Thanks. I, uh. Talk to you later.”

“You too.” Race hung up first, and David tipped his head back against the wall, fighting tears.

His mind warred against itself, self-loathing against self-loathing, one side rooted in years of worrying about money and skipping meals to avoid the four dollars it would cost and telling himself that he was the reason that his mother had to worry, and the other side coming from years of sitting in lecture halls and tearing his mind to pieces trying to understand something and never quite believing that someone like Jack would love him.

One side telling him that of course it was his fault, he was the reason, he fucked up someone’s life just by being there, and the other saying of course it couldn’t be, how could it be, how could Jack really have fallen back in love with him, how could he have cared enough to bring his relationship so close to its end when he’d made clear nearly six years ago that he didn’t know why he cared in the first place.

Someone knocked on the door, and it took all of David’s strength to stand up and open it.

As soon as he did, he felt like he’d both thrown up and had ice water dumped on his head, all at the same time.

 

Jack swallowed hard as soon as David opened the door. “Hey.” When David just stood there gaping, he pushed past him and into his apartment.

David finally spoke. “What the fuck?”

Jack wrung his hands together. “You know you ruined that word for me.”

He watched as David’s face slowly melted into an expression that was somehow both confused and still like he wanted to punch Jack in the face. “I… ruined saying fuck for you.”

“Yes!”

David pinched the bridge of his nose and angled his head up like he was trying to stop a nosebleed. “Jack, you need to leave.”

Jack crossed his arms, as if he could physically root himself to the floor of David’s apartment. “I’m not leaving ‘till I say what I came to.”

He could almost feel David’s patience wearing away as he threw his arms out to either side of him. “Then say it!”

Jack opened his mouth, desperately wanting the words to come easily. “I…”

 

_Jack looked up from his phone as David opened the door, and despite the feeling in the pit of his stomach, found himself smiling when he saw the grin on David’s face._

_“Something good happen?”_

_David laughed and flopped down on the bed next to Jack. “The science stuff is over. San Diego is ours for the taking!”_

_Jack rolled onto his side to get a better look at David. “So you liked it?”_

_“Loved it, duh,” David said, rolling his eyes. “The professors are brilliant, the campus is gorgeous, Scripps is incredible.”_

_“Damn, planning on abandoning MIT to come here for your master’s?”_

_Jack meant it as a joke, but David paused. “I, uh. I’m… I don’t think I’m going to get my master’s.”_

_Jack didn’t compute what David had said for a few seconds. “What?”_

_David sat up, looking at Jack out of the corner of his eye. “I’m just going to find a job when I graduate. Something to make me-- us-- actual money.”_

_Jack blinked slowly, not quite sure what to make of that. He sat up too, and fixed his eyes on David. “You’ve been talking since I met you about getting your master’s.”_

_“It’s…” David looked down, breaking their eye contact. “It’s just what’s practical. I get a job, an actual one, so you can proceed with art.”_

_“So you’re doing this because of me.”_

_“I’m doing this because we have to start thinking about stuff like this! My life’s getting a little easier, money-wise, and I’d like to keep it that way!”_

_But all Jack heard was that David is giving up a part of his plan, a part of his dream, because of Jack. Because god, it must have been so goddamn difficult to deal with Jack, who never took his head out of the clouds and who was following some useless dream and David must have thought Jack was such a burden, who wouldn’t…_

_Jack shook himself out of his thoughts. “So I’m weighing you down and you’ve gotta pick up the slack? That’s the story you’re pushing here?”_

_Jack had been sitting there, on that bed, pacing around that apartment, checking the news and wishing something bad would happen just so something could catch his attention. He’d been sketching and tearing sketches apart and waiting for David to finish up with whatever smart thing he was doing and he’d thought that David was okay with Jack not knowing shit about biochemistry or whatever but maybe he wasn’t maybe he was so close to leaving Jack behind maybe Jack had just been blind to it all along and maybe David hated being with someone who never understood what he was studying and spent his time covered in paint and god maybe Jack was just some fucking nuisance--_

_David had looked back up again, his face screwed up with obvious perplexion and anger. “Why the hell are you making this about you, it’s my decision, concerning my future, not yours!”_

_It was at that very second that Jack knew that he was going to say something he’d regret by the end of the day._

 

“What?” David demanded, hating how he could feel his eyes stinging. “What the fuck do you have to say that you fucking barged in here to--”

“What did I _do?”_ Jack yelled, and David stepped back. “What did I do to make you hate my guts, dammit!”

 

_“Why the hell are you making this about you, it’s my decision, concerning my future, not yours!” The words sounded so much more vicious coming out of David’s mouth than they had in his head, and Jack’s eyebrows furrowed._

_“I’m not_ making _this about me, this is clearly about me!”_

_David’s blood boiled. Of course Jack was a part of his decision-- in the vision that David had of his future, Jack was right by his side, and he wasn’t going to make Jack give up art so that David could spend even more money on college. But it wasn’t like Jack was holding him back, it wasn’t like he blamed Jack for anything, it sure as hell wasn’t like he made the decision he had made because he felt forced into a corner._

_David looked up at the ceiling, ready to spring off the bed and get as far away as possible if anything became threatening. Which it wouldn’t, he was sure, Jack was better than that, but it was hardwired into him. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with this.”_

_Jack scoffed. “You’re smart, use that brain of yours. Surely if it’s so much better than mine it can figure that out.”_

_David snapped his head back down to stare at him. “I_ never _said anything like that!”_

_“Sure as fuck seemed like you think so!”_

_“What the hell did I do wrong?” David said, his voice breaking halfway through, and he hated how weak he sounded, he hated how much Jack sounded like David and Sarah as they had fought and blamed each other all throughout their senior year._

_Jack replied, and David’s brain turned into white noise as they yelled back and forth. Everything seemed to be on fast forward, blurring together into a mess of increasing rage._

_At some point, David started reflecting on when they had stood up, when David had started clenching his fists, when they had truly started yelling._

_“I don’t know!” Jack shouted. “I don’t know why the hell I’m still here when you made it plenty clear that I should be gone!”_

_“Then why are you here? Why can’t you just_ fucking _shut up!”_

_Jack laughed, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know! God, why’d I even come here?”_

_David felt his world shattering around him. He didn’t know how everything changed so quickly-- that morning, he’d woke up to Jack kissing him on the cheek and offering him coffee. And instead of the happiness they’d had just ten hours ago, they were screaming and crying and David didn’t know what to do._

_He didn’t even register full sentences, just snippets and words._

_Obtuse._

_Such a goddamn pain._

_Selfish._

_Stagnant._

_David didn’t even know what he was saying, he just knew he was yelling right back and that he couldn’t even see straight and that ever so often Jack would reel back like he’d been punched._

_Eventually, he broke. “Why are you even_ here _if apparently you have no clue why you love me?”_

_They stared at each other, and after a moment, Jack turned around and walked right out._

_David crumpled in on himself._

_A week and a half later, he was back on the East Coast, watching movies in Crutchie’s apartment and eating ice cream without a thought to its health detriments or that he wasn’t sure if the brand was kosher._

_He looked up as Crutchie walked in, speckles all over his shirt like he had been caught in the crossfire of a spilled drink._

_“I thought you were going to be out later?”_

_Crutchie grimaced. “I saw someone I didn’t want to see.”_

 

David honestly wasn’t sure how he managed to convey all of that to Jack in as little time as he did. All he really knew was that once he was done, Jack had tears in his eyes and he looked… well, he looked like he cared that David had been hurt.

“I’m…” he started, and faded off like the words had died in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

David smiled softly, because for the first time, he could believe that. “I am, too. For making you feel like you were some kind of burden.”

“I never told you about that.”

“Kath.”

“Ah.”

David stepped forward and took his hand. “I really am, Jack. You meant… you mean so much to me. You were pushing me forward, not holding me back.”

Jack smiled tentatively, and god, David wanted to kiss him. The worst part about knowing Jack Kelly as a kind person was that Jack Kelly as a kind person was a Jack who deserved good things and happy mornings and all the nice kisses in the world.

He wouldn’t get those from Race, David reminded himself. Race and Jack were over. Race had said so himself.

But again on the list of reminders: not fully. David didn’t have a _lot_ of rules about his life, but people in relationships and Republicans were pretty firmly off-limits.

Jack used his spare hand to wipe away his tears. “Well.”

David wasn’t sure why he said it: maybe closure, maybe something else. “I had a ring, you know.”

Jack blinked quickly, clearly taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I was planning on proposing the day you graduated-- sort of a “Well, college is over, onto the next part of our lives!” thing, but… y’know.” He shrugged. “That never happened.”

Three things happened, one after the other: he realized that he had been holding Jack’s hand for a possibly uncomfortable period of time, he let go of Jack’s hand, and Jack used said freed hand to grab David’s shirt (from the Smithsonian museum. It was his moping shirt,) and pull him into a kiss.

David was a good person. He tried to be the best person he could be. But Jack was kissing him and if David didn’t start kissing him back soon, he’d stop, so David wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and held him close and wondered when he’d feel like he was ready to let go.

David, had he been able to think, would have decided that the FDA would need to be aware of the addictive effects of kissing Jack Kelly, but he couldn’t think, so instead, he gasped when Jack cupped his jaw with one hand and let the world swallow him whole and make him a permanent object, rooted to the floor, captured for eternity in kissing Jack. David didn’t know how long they stood there, caught between desperation and the slow, dream-like feeling of getting exactly what you want, but when Jack’s hand slid down to David’s stomach underneath his t-shirt, David’s fight-or-flight kicked in.

David pushed Jack away, and Jack jumped back. They both stood in complete silence for a moment, the only sound being Cordelia meowing quietly, and then Jack looked down.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Jack?”

Jack’s eyes flicked up to meet David’s, and David’s words caught in his throat.

 

_“Shit, I’m sorry, I, uh, that was probably really out of turn and we haven't know each other too long, so--”_

_“Jack.” David pulled Jack back towards him, smiling widely. “Kiss me again.”_

 

“I… I think you should go,” David said quietly, and Jack nodded briefly.

“I’ll… I’ll see you later?”

David smiled faintly, like he was trying to reassure both of them of the fact, and Jack turned around, leaving the apartment with a simple click of the door while David fell back on his couch. Charlotte started kneading her paws into his leg, and he scratched her absentmindedly on the top of the head.

Of course he got the closure he’d been waiting for five years to get when he was wearing a Smithsonian t-shirt and boxers. Life had such a personal vendetta against things going perfect in David’s life that he couldn’t even look remotely put together.

If he thought about it really hard, he could have made it a metaphor, but he didn’t. That was the kind of thing Jack did to him-- scrambled up the world so that words, which were always precise and made sense and bent to David’s will, were suddenly lost to him.

That was enough deep thought for that day.

 

Jack unlocked the door and took a deep breath as he walked in. Anthony was sitting on the couch quietly, staring at his hands as he wrung them, and looked up when Jack came in.

“Jack?”

Their eyes met, and a moment of simple understanding passed between the two of them.

Jack sighed and sat down next to Anthony. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT SHIT HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> whats gonna happen next??? whats gonna happen to race????? how on earth are there still four chapters left???? we'll have to see!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> alright, you know the drill!!! comment and ill owe you one of the peaches i bought at the farmers market, if youre feeling especially generous you can rb the post on my tumblr, @penzyroamin!  
> AND. ANNOUNCEMENTS.  
> 1\. i do have a playlist for this! its still sorta under construction, but if anyone ever wants to see that, shoot me a message on tumblr!  
> and 2. after this fic ends, theres still gonna be a little content left over! once it ends, im going to be posting an aesthetic/moodboard thing for each major character in this fic, so thats a thing!! if you like pretty stuff youll like it  
> anywho!!! thanks for reading, have a lovely day!!!!


	12. This Plot Would Be Moving Faster If They Weren't Fucking Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks and realizations and more talks and flashbacks and talks and friendship and talks. Lots of talks. Also, Sniper fucks up her microwave popcorn in a pretty major way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gshdgsjgds okay so. this chapter was a bitch to write. hope it didnt turn out awful. also theres spotchie have fun

Jack picked at the seam in the couch cushions, Anthony watching him carefully. He knew what he needed to get across, what he needed to say, but when you’re telling the person that you’ve been with for years that it’s over, it’s done, you’re sorry but you just can’t, it’s a little hard.

Anthony coughed. “So…”

“I lied to you,” Jack said, then blinked at his own abruptness. He forced himself to look Anthony in the eye, finding some undistinguishable emotion. “I told you that I’d never met David before, and I was lying.”

Anthony nodded slowly. “So how’d you know him?”

“We dated,” Jack said shortly, and Anthony looked stunned.

“Was it…”

“It was serious. Three years, during college.”

Anthony looked both frustrated at Jack-- which Jack understood, he was frustrated at himself most of the time-- and understanding.

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” He wanted to say that he didn’t know, but he did. “At first I thought it’d be awkward. We had a pretty messy break-up, I didn’t want you in the cross-fire.” Anthony looked like he understood that, it hit Jack in the stomach that what he needed to say might blow that understanding apart. “But, uh…” He closed his eyes. “I fell back in love with him.”

He opened his eyes, seeing Anthony’s face falling.

“Oh.”

They both examined each other for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Jack said, and Anthony sighed.

“I lied, too.” Jack looked up, taken aback. “I said I didn’t know Spot? I was his daughter’s teacher.”

“Why’d you need to lie about that?”

Anthony laughed shakily. “I had a little bit of a crush on him. Not anymore, but… It was just embarrassing to see him, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Jack desperately wanted to add something to that, some sort of bandaid over their wounds. Something to dull the pain a little as they said their goodbyes not to each other, but to being the kind of pair that was unbreakable. But words, like they so often seemed to in the past few months, couldn’t come out of his mouth, and he had to fight back tears.

They both could have been angry. They could have fought, but they didn’t. And that, maybe, was why Jack had loved Anthony-- they could be angry at anything but each other. And maybe that was why loved David-- because he and David could be angry, and they could get confused, and they could get through it.

“So, uh,” Anthony said after a moment, “dibs on not telling our parents.”

Jack felt a bolt of pure fear run through him. “No. No, no, no, no, no, Anthony Higgins you are going to TELL YOUR GODDAMN MOTHER--”

Anthony cackled, shoved a pillow in Jack’s face, and ran.

 

David used his foot to push the wheely chair around in circles. “So, anyone besides me considering going into a food coma and then dying?”

Sarah sighed. “You’re a grown-ass man.”

“Yup.”

Spot gave him a withering look, which David thought was pretty brave for someone eating Ritz crackers with his mini-fridge door open. “Don’t project your defeated attitude on my children.”

“Of course not, Dad,” David said, pushing the chair over to the leftover flowers that he should have guessed would be in a florist’s office. He started picking through them, and noticed little tags on a few of them.

_Resignation and good-bye._

_Still love you._

_Heart-ache for you._

David read a little while longer, and then looked up. “Spot, I thought you didn’t do flower language?”

Spot shrugged one shoulder, clearly trying for casual. “Someone wanted something to say exactly what they felt.” The answer felt wrong, not in the way that it was a lie, but that crucial details had been removed from it.

“They’ve got a sad life,” Sarah remarked from over David’s shoulder, then like a hawk narrowed on Spot. “So. Crutchie.”

Spot threw his hands into the air. “You all’re a bunch of vultures.”

David spun the wheely chair around, and Sarah perched herself on top of Spot’s desk. (Desk was a loosely used term. It was a table with flowers and scattered forms on it.)

“Details?” Sarah prompted, and Spot groaned.

“Nothing’s changed! I haven’t done anything! I’m trying to keep it normal!”

David rubbed his temples. “How’d this even happen?”

“I don’t know!” Spot said, throwing his hands in the air. “He drank the same amount as me, and I certainly remembered everything!”

Choosing to skip the possibly dirty undertones of that sentence, David focused on the actual question that he had. “He drank the same amount as you and still blacked out?”

Spot nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

Sarah sat up straight. “And he’s taller than you.”

They looked at each other. David gave up trying to think. “Saz, you’re the only one who paid attention during health.”

She checked off on her fingers as she listed through the things that affected BAC (according to an eighth grade teacher with a degree from a fairly dubious source, so she could have been wrong.) “The amount you drink, body mass and weight, if you’ve ate before--” she cut herself off. “Is he on meds?”

Spot blinked. “I assumed he wasn’t enough of a dumbass to drink on meds he isn’t normally on.”

David held up one hand. “Why is he on them, though? Does anyone know why he’s actually he’d those trips to the doctor’s?”

Spot said, “His leg?” at the same time Sarah offered, “Terminal illness?” so after a moment they all headed out to grab a taxi.

They more or less barged into Crutchie’s workroom, fueled partially by a desperate need for answers and David always having the constant fear of death at the back of his mind.

Crutchie spat out god knew how many pins. “What’s up?”

“Crutchie,” Sarah said calmly, “you know we treasure your friendship and totally respect your privacy.”

“Thanks?”

“But why have you been going to the doctor’s?”

Crutchie stared at them blankly. “Why?”

Spot, who had just previously been staring at his watch, exploded. “Because you drank the same amount as me so it’s doubtful that you could black out on that so you’d have to be on medication and you’ve been going to the doctor’s recently and we’re worried because we’re good friends!”

Crutchie blinked. “I got my appendix removed. Remember, the day that Davey left for Santa Cruz? And then I went into isolation for like a week and then the incident happened and then two days later Davey came back?”

David buried his face in his hands, his voice coming out muffled. “I worried about you dying because of pain meds.”

“Yeah, which frankly, could have been solved a lot easier. Also, Spot why the fuck are you so worried? I’m fine, I just don’t know shit about wh--” he paused, and he and Spot both stared at each other.

“Holy fuck,” Crutchie whispered, and David took that as the hint to drag Sarah out of Crutchie’s workroom with him.

 

“Well,” Anthony said, staring at his phone like he expected it to implode at any moment, “that went… better than it could have?”

“She still called me a bastard,” Jack said, and Anthony laughed.

“You are a bastard.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He looked at Anthony. “You’re taking this remarkable well.”

Anthony leaned back into the couch. “No use in moping.”

“There’s plenty of uses in moping. Ridding your apartment of any leftovers, not having to do laundry..”

Anthony shoved him lightly. “Yeah, I don’t change clothes for a week _one time_ because Bow and Dre’s marriage was going downhill, and you make fun of me for the rest of my life.”

Jack grinned. “Seriously, though. Thank you.”

Anthony shrugged. “I look at it this way. I could be angry, and we could could both end up unhappy because of it. Or we could support each other, and understand that we’re human, and we both end up happier because of it.”

“You are _such_ a kindergarten teacher.”

“Hey, would you prefer me to be an angry bitch?”

“No, thanks.”

Anthony sat quietly. “Seriously, though, if I call you in two years and say you’re a dick before I hang up, just assume that everything’s fine.”

“You will be, right? Fine?” Jack asked, and Anthony sighed, a melancholy look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

  

It was five hours later and he still hadn’t gotten a text from Spot or Crutchie, which left a lot of options that David didn’t want to think about, ranging from things being normal to manslaughter to David having to mope around when all his closest friends were in relationships and he was literally being paid to plan weddings.

He was sketching out some ideas for layout when Sniper opened the door. “Hey, uh, Davey?”

Davey looked up, immediately paranoid. “If it’s Spot or Crutchie they aren’t allowed to talk to me for the next twenty-four hours.”

“No, it’s just, uh,” Sniper looked down at her shoes, and David’s heart rate started spiking.

“Snipes…” He paused, and then paled. “Why do I smell something burning?”

“Yeah, that’s th--”

As soon as she started, the alarm started going off, and David’s jaw dropped.

As he and Sniper were taking the stairs two by two, she yelled, “IT’S JUST THE POPCORN!”

 

“I’d advise you not enter the building for a few days,” the firefighter finished, and David smiled thinly.

“Thank you so much.” As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to Sniper and Boots. “So Sniper set the microwave and it’s surroundings on fire, we have to replace a good chunk of the stuff in that room, and it’s so smoky that we can’t go back in for a while.”

Boots started applauding sarcastically, and David silenced him with a look. “So can you guys text that employee group chat that I know you make fun of me on to tell them we’re moving over to Spot’s for the next few days?”

He closed his eyes and dragged his hands down his face while Boots and Sniper typed. So his ex kissed him, he had lost said ex as a client, his friends were all probably in much less chaotic situations than him, and he was going to spend the next few days in the storage room of a flower shop where said friend worked. Because his employee set the fucking microwave on fire.

“Only in New York,” he heard someone passing by mutter, and he would have been inclined to agree if he hadn’t grown up in different enough places to know that the only people who said that were self-centered New Yorkers who believed that they lived in the only interesting place on Earth.

He checked his phone again and made the executive decision that if Spot didn’t text him back in the next five minutes, David would load Boots and Sniper and the box of protein bars that they had grabbed on the way out into a taxi and they would let themselves into Spot’s shop themselves.

 

_Sarah ran her fingers over the seams of the quilt as David watched, and eventually she sighed._

_“I never wanted to have to come back here,” she said quietly._

_David didn’t realize how, at twenty-two, going back home to his childhood bedroom would be like having ice water dumped on his head. He nodded slowly, and Sarah hummed._

_The only talking, for a while, were their family outside the room, moving around and catching up and chatting. Sarah shifted so that she was facing David._

_“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, and David looked up, surprised._

_“I know,” he said, blinking. “You told me.”_

_“But I am, really. We said all those things, and we didn’t take them back for so long, and you didn’t ever go into--”_

_“Sarah,” he cut her off, holding up a hand. “I didn’t continue with school for a lot of reasons, only a few of which had to do with you.”_

_“But not money,” she argued. “You could’ve gotten the… the school money.”_

_“Stipend.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_She looked at him expectantly, and he thought out his words before he let them spill out. “I don’t think that telling Jack that I wasn’t stopping because of money would have kept us together. He would’ve just left thinking I was a coward.”_

_Sarah shook her head before she reached forward and hugged him tightly, her chin resting on his head in a clear display of her aggravating height. “You aren’t a coward,” she whispered._

_“I know, Saz.”_

_“If I ever see him,” she decided out loud, “I’ll…” He waited for the finish, both amused and touched. “I’ll punch him. Where it hurts, then where it shows.”_

 

Jack stirred circles in his hot chocolate, setting the spoon down. “Why’d you break up with Sarah?”

Katherine squinted at him. “I… didn’t?”

“No, the first time.”

Katherine sighed, clearly shot down memory lane. “A lot of reasons.” Jack tilted his head. “She and Davey weren’t talking as much, then, and it definitely made her a different person. She’s… she was so angry at Davey when we met, and then they slowly started to reconcile, but they were still shaky. We needed to break up, in a way, to let both of us work out our world-views. Why?”

Jack took a hesitant sip of his cocoa, still trying to comprehend everything that Katherine had said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Katherine clicked her tongue. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure,” Jack said dryly, and Katherine smiled softly.

“Neither do I. I didn’t know that things would be better when I started talking to Sarah again. I just hoped and I took my chances.”

Jack groaned. “Really not helpful, Kath.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, holding her hands up. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. All you can do is try your best.” She took Jack’s hand. “I know you don’t want to hurt him. But you just have to think about what’s right for both of you, and move from there.”

He watched as she cast a look over his shoulder at where Sarah was boxing up something for a customer. “You and Davey are complicated. You two’re the only ones who can work that out.”

Sarah smiled up at Katherine, and Jack felt his heart overflow with love for the two of them.

“I’m really happy for you, Kath.”

Katherine smiled, a kind of shy smile that slowly grew into a grin. “I’m happy, too.”

That was when one thing became apparent to Jack-- he couldn’t be happy without being honest. Whether he was saying goodbye or starting again, he couldn’t do either without making sure David knew how much Jack loved him.

But Sarah passed, and winked at Katherine, and Katherine turned red, and Jack pretended to throw up into his coffee, and either way, he was pretty sure he’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> assuming that that didnt suck, you know the drill!!! comment and i'll owe you a discarded school ID lanyard (not with the ID,) maybe pop over to my tumblr @penzyroamin, to chat with me or rb the post for this fic!!! we've only got a few more chapters until it's over!!  
> ALTHOUGH. YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED. 16 CHAPTERS???? im adding another one!!!! i wanted an epilogue of sorts at the end, so thatll be there!  
> also!!! next few chapters, theres going to be a little mini love story inside of it. this is just a heads up because i want people to pay attention to it. its cute and the kind of lesbian love story i WANT in my life  
> anyways!!!!! thanks for reading, have an awesome day!


	13. Hey, Davey, Aren't Conference Calls Supposed To Be For Work?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are flowers and friends and Rafaela's here too and some favorites return via David being a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the whole flower thing? thats back and its a bitch

David really, really, was starting to have a momentary burst of hating his career. And his friends’ careers. And the happy people that were involved.

“Thanks,” he grumbled as a customer walked out of Spot’s flower shop, and rolled his eyes when Spot groaned.

“Take it down a notch, edgelord. My customers don’t wanna see a sad sack giving them roses.”

David picked up a flower and held it in front of his hand, slowly pulling it down to reveal his middle finger. Spot laughed loudly, and snatched some sort of protein yogurt health drink from the refrigerator that he kept underneath his register table before he walked away. David tilted the chair onto its two back legs and hummed to himself as he admired the hanging pots of flowers near the windows. He was about halfway through a song that he’d been listening to recently when the door opened, and, startled, he jumped, and the legs of the chair slipped.

As he sat up, wincing, he felt his second grade teacher laughing at him. Rubbing his back and trying to avoid the overwhelming feeling of _Oh God My Body Hurts This Is What My Parents Warned Me About,_ he clambered back onto his feet and made a desperate attempt to regain his composure.

Regaining one’s composure isn’t easy when a college-age girl is laughing her ass off at you.

David cleared his throat and leaned forward onto his elbows. “What’s up?”

So, sue him, he didn’t stick to Spot’s employee script. He was an individual. He had tried, really, and then “Brooklyn Bridge Flowers” became tiring to say, so he had given up.

The girl fidgeted awkwardly. “So, uh, I wanted to get some flowers?”

“This is a flower shop,” David said, and smiled when she looked down. “Relax. What kind?”

“Maybe some pink and yellow ones? Those are my girlfriend’s favorite, I’m getting some for her because she’s about to graduate, and I just did a year ago, so I thought it’d be cool to get her something.”

David physically felt the shift in his brain as he quickly became willing to die for this girl. “Okay, pink and yellow,” he said, scribbling on an order form. “When do you want them?”

She fiddled with the string of her sweatshirt hood. “Uh, Wednesday. In the morning.” David nodded and jotted it down.

“Any allergies to pollen?”

She shook her head, and he nodded slowly. “And you are aware that pink and yellow are really common bridal colors?” She bit her bottom lip, and David rushed to say, “Of course there’s nothing wrong with that I just--”

She waved her hands. “Calm down, calm down, I’m not offended or anything. Um.” She paused, clearly thinking. “I don’t want her to feel pressured or anything, like I’m trying to hint at something.”

David raised one eyebrow. “So you do want to marry her?” (If he had been in a different line of work, he wouldn’t have dug deeper, but come on. He worked in fucking weddings. The people he worked for were either gay or rich or both, they needed some snooping.)

The girl wrung her hands. “I mean yes, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m pushing her.”

David nodded, suddenly desperate for Spot to walk in and give a professional florist’s opinion. He pulled out Spot’s design binder, ready to step into the unknown, and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He shrieked, whipping around, and the girl started giggling again.

Spot raised one eyebrow. “Jumpy, much? Hey, Raf.”

He looked like he was trying to hold back a smile, and David glared at him. “Fuck off and help this girl.” Spot shoved David away from the desk, a smile breaking through, and David smiled to himself before he flopped into the chair that had been deemed his, opening up his own binder.

Chaos, chaos, chaos, he thought as he looked over the plans he had written down for Jack and Race’s wedding. Probably useless chaos that had left him with nothing better than what he had before it started. He thumbed through pictures of suits and flowers and napkins and some pages that were just his typed notes, complete with personal notes ranging from “smart” to “fucking asshole.”

He leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to remember what it was like to hate Jack. It was ridiculous, how he had detested any sign of Jack for years, and then in a few simple months, he couldn’t recall how that felt, but he knew every aspect of the simple press of his lips.

(And also all the not-quick-and-simple aspects of Jack kissing him, but David was blocking out those thoughts, because they weren’t good to focus on and it wasn’t going to happen again. So.)

He focused back on his work, already planning in his head how to incorporate the aspects that he couldn’t get rid of into other weddings.

His focus only lasted for so long before his mind started wandering into the perilous territory of _what if?_ and _why?_ What if Jack wasn’t in a relationship? David turned the question over in his head. Things would be easier, surely. But would they be? Or would it just make it easier for him to make a bad decision? He tapped his pencil against his leg and thought. Did he love Jack? Of course. He always had, but did that make getting back together with him a good idea? Maybe, maybe not. Did Jack love him? He didn’t know. Jack had kissed him, but there were a million reasons besides love that kisses happened.

There were a million reasons besides love that kisses happened. The words repeated over and over in his head, and he blinked, realizing who he needed to call.

He waited as the dial rang, and grinned when a voice came through.

“Davey, hi,” Finch said, sounding out of breath. “What’s up?”

David frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Was with a guy. Don’t worry, he’s not listening.”

He laughed, surprised but somehow not at all shocked. “You kicked out a guy to pick up the phone?”

“Yeah, and he was hot, so this better be good.”

“Jack and I kissed.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then Finch spoke up, a laugh in his voice. “Damn, alright. Just kissing?”

“Yeah, Christ. He was engaged, remember?”

More silence, then, “He _was?”_

“Uh, they… probably broke up.”

“Davey, that’s great! I mean, it’s not, sorry for them, but now you can like, I dunno, fuck him and shit like that! And date him, if you want, I guess.”

David tried to hide his smile, despite no one being there to see it, and quickly sobered. “Finch, it’s complicated.”

“No, it isn’t. You love him?”

“Yes,” David said slowly.

“He loves you?”

David sighed. “Maybe.” Maybe, maybe not.

He could practically feel Finch shrug. “Could he?”

“Yes,” David admitted, and he heard the click of Finch snapping his fingers.

“So tell him.”

There was a slight knock at the door, and David frowned. “Finch, just a sec.” He frowned as the door opened, unsure of why Spot would knock on a door in his own shop.

Then he swallowed hard, and there was Jack, standing with trembling hands behind his back, and David blinked quickly, like he wasn’t sure whether Jack was real or just a cruel illusion.

“Finch, I’m gonna call you back.”

 

When Jack had walked into the shop, Spot had just yanked his thumb in the direction of a closed door and kept talking, hands moving rapidly, with some baby lesbian about Puerto Rico and electricity, which was a whole new issue that Jack wouldn’t get into inside his head.

(Even though he wanted to join, _god,_ it had been such a long time since he’d had an actual decent conversation in Spanish besides thanking the lady at his favorite restaurant. He had important things to do, but lord, he had to hold himself back.)

(Which reminded him of David, actually-- in college, when Jack had been missing Medda and her willingness to always learn more about him, David had randomly dropped the trilingual bomb.)

(David speaking in Yiddish on the phone and English to the cashier at the gas station store and Spanish to Jack was actually the best experience of Jack’s life. That day was forever in his mind as the day that he figured out what people were talking about when they mentioned hot nerds.)

_Anyways._

He snatched up what he needed from the table near the door and steeled himself before he knocked, not hearing any signs of “Please don’t come in here,” so he opened the door hesitantly.

David’s jaw immediately dropped, and he said, slowly, “Finch, I’m gonna call you back,” before he hung up and set his work down, standing up slowly.

“What… are you doing here?”

“The wedding’s off,” Jack decided to say, cutting right to the facts. “Anthony and I are done.”

David exhaled slowly, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that. “Oh.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jack told him, knowing David far too well to think that that wouldn’t be his first train of thought. “It was bound to happen.”

He watched as David considered the words, seeming to turn them over and examine them from each side in his head.

“Okay,” David said eventually, and Jack looked down, unsure of what to make of the response.

“I, uh. I’m sorry,” he said, and David shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

They stood silently for a moment, and Jack, for a good few seconds, wondered how it would go if he just stepped forward and kissed him. But he couldn’t do that, the point of being here was giving David a choice. Letting David decide what route they went, and what they were going to be.

Still, it was hard to look at David, still looking confused and his lips twisted in a frown, and not kiss him until he was smiling again.

Jack took a deep breath before he pulled the flowers he had from behind his back. David’s eyebrows shot up, and Jack swallowed hard.

“I know it’s, uh. Um,” he faltered, and David just stared at the flowers, taking them like he wasn’t sure if they were safe to touch.

“Camellias,” David said, and Jack felt his heart stutter.

“Your favorites?” he said hesitantly, and the corners of David’s lips turned up, in seconds becoming the full, beautiful grin that Jack loved so much.

“You remembered.”

“It’s hard to forget anything about you.”

David’s smile touched the corner of his eyes, and he examined the paper wrapped around the stems. “These drawings are gorgeous.”

Jack had worked hard on them-- cyclamens and forget-me-nots, because Jack Kelly was anything if not cliche, and words wove around the bottom of the paper.

He paused for a second, unsure of what to say. “Look up what the flowers mean, okay?”

David nodded slowly, and Jack exhaled slowly. “Text me later, after you think?”

David nodded again, even more perplexed than before, and Jack smiled hesitantly before he left.

 

All it had taken was a few quick texts, and David had everyone he’d ever need, spare his parents and the still-elusive Les, on a conference call.

“If you’re present,” Sarah said in a posh accent, “say thy name.”

“Kath.”

“Spot.”

“Crutchie.”

“Finch.”

“Who?”

“New guy.”

“Oh. Jojo!”

“Buttons.”

“Mush, but I’m busy so this’s gotta be quick.”

There was silence for a moment, and David snapped out of whatever trance he had gone into. “Sorry, it’s me. Okay, so more problems.”

“Jack problems?” Buttons asked, and David nodded even though she couldn’t see it.

“Jack problems.”

David was about to start talking again, but Finch butted in. “Please tell me this is just you being like, should I fuck him? And us being like, hell yeah! And then you go do that and all of this is over.”

David realized that maybe a conference call hadn’t been the best idea when everyone’s voices started blending together into chaos.

“Who even are you?”

“He’s fucking right, that’s who he is--”

“But they should take it--”

“Wait, Davey tops?”

“I hate this more than life itse--”

“I have work, bye bitches!”

“Who said that?”

“Mush, bye Mush!”

“He’s already gone, man.”

David rubbed his temples, already sensing an incoming headache. “Everybody stop, _please.”_

“Sorry,” Buttons said, and everyone immediately shushed her. David rubbed his thumb along the line of his index finger, trying to calm down.

“Okay, so, he bought me flowers. Camellias, which are my favorite.”

“Awww.”

“They’re damn hard to get, too,” Spot said, and David paused.

“Wait, did he get them from you?”

“Yeah, I’m the only florist in New York that puts up with his bullshit.”

Sarah barked out a laugh, (at least he thought it was Sarah. There were too many people,) and he sighed.

“Can I please keep talking?” Everyone went quiet, and he continued. “So he got me these flowers and he said that he and Race broke up and it isn’t my fault.”

Silence, silence, silence.

“Are you done?” Crutchie asked, sounding confused.

“What, do you want a play by play?” David said sarcastically, and he heard Jojo giggle.

“Uh, yes?” Crutchie said, and what else did David expect?

“Basically, he came in, said they broke up, said it wasn’t my fault, gave me flowers, said that it was hard to forget anything about me, told me to look up the flower meanings, and left.”

It was like everyone had turned the reins over to Crutchie, despite every last woman in the call being in a far more functioning relationship. “Have you looked them up?” Crutchie asked, and David blinked.

“No, actually.”

There was a chorus of groans, and he could feel Crutchie rolling his eyes. “Jesus, then do it already!”

“Okay, okay!” David opened up his laptop, listening idley to his friends’ conversation while he logged in and opened up the three million tabs he had been too lazy to close last time he had turned it off. (And what if he needed that site? Really, it was worth the fifteen seconds he would have spent finding it in his history.)

“What do I even search up?” he asked slowly, and Spot scoffed.

“Just search flower language, dumbass.”

He did, and pulled up the first guide he saw. After a few moments of searching, he ran into a problem. “Hey, Spot?”

“Mhm?”

“What are these flowers?”

He heard a distinct thud, similar to the sound of a head falling against a desk, and everyone started cackling.

“I’ll be in in just a second,” Spot said eventually between bouts of laughter. Crutchie’s laughter immediately cut off.

“Can I come over?” he asked, and David gagged.

“Not if you do gross shit.”

“Yeah, Davey, as soon as your shit gets fixed I’m fucking Spot Conlon into the table,” Crutchie said, and David tried to wrap his mind around whether or not it was sarcastic. For his own peace of mind, he chose yes, it was.

Spot walked in, picking up the bouquet with a strange kind of gentleness and examining the flowers Jack had drawn on the paper. “Forget-me-nots,” he said, and looked a little closer, then, “cyclamens.”

David scanned the list before he lost his nerve and shoved the computer over to Spot, who grumbled before he scrolled through, looking for the names.

“Cyclamens, are, uh. Resignation and goodbye.” And in a rush, before David could worry, he added, “Forget-me-nots are true love and memories!”

David threw his hands up in surrender. “Well, what the fuck does that mean!”

Katherine made a little confused noise. “Just a sec, I’m putting you on hold.”

 

Jack spun around in his wheely chair until he heard Katherine’s voice come through clearly. “Do you need something?”

“Do you think Davey loves me?”

Katherine groaned loudly. “Just a sec.”

 

“Davey, I’m gonna need to hang up. Good luck,” she said, and left without another word.

“What was that about?” he heard Buttons ask, and Spot shrugged, picking up the phone to talk into it.

“Probably nothing important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, yall, idk if this is a hot mess or underwhelming, but its here so i can relax  
> exciting news, though!!!!!! im going to go see les mis tomorrow, and im really hyped!!! just... putting that out there. its gonna be fun!  
> anyways. only a few chapters left! if you guys want an update on what else im writing, ill have an extensive one in the notes of the epilogue, but heres a brief one!  
> ive got a canon era piece in the works, thats actually pretty close to finished-- it centers around kath and davey, and is... pretty damn sad. just a heads up. and then ive got a few small javid works, a rafaela/jojo fic, another fic centric around kath and daveys friendship, and my next big multi-chapter fic!! (and you all know me, only like 3 of those are gonna ever see the sun. but hey, they still have google docs!)  
> anyways, i hope you enjoyed!!! go rb the post on my tumblr, it really helps me out, and if you comment ill owe you my brothers destroyed bathroom passes that my dog ate. lifes life, yo  
> have a lovely day, thank you for reading !!!!!! <3


	14. Spot's Three Young Children Have A Stronger Grip On Their Emotions Than Two Grown Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hm. next chapter is technically the end. 16 is what happens a little while after the end. so this is gearing up for the end. yikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deadass have this formula for writers block where when i really cant think of what to have in a chapter, i go like this:  
> kids, people getting drunk, medda, gay shit  
> so thats pretty much this chapter, have fun

As soon as the clock hit five, Spot pointed at one of his various flower nerds. “You’re in charge, I have a crisis to handle.”

“Sir, do you ever worry that your friends are a little too dramatic for people in their late twenties?” Flower Nerd turned to David and flinched, like he was just realizing that he was there. “No offense.”

“All the goddamn time, kid.” Spot shouldered his laptop bag. “Close up at eight.”

Walking, they managed to shave off about twenty minutes from what it would’ve taken them to drive to the school that Spot’s kids went to.

Olivia beamed as soon as she rounded the corner with Spot and saw David and Crutchie chatting by the entrance. “Uncle Davey!” She ran up and hugged him tightly, and Crutchie made an offended little noise in the back of his throat.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Olivia grinned sheepishly, still clinging to David. “Uncle Davey’s nicer.”

Crutchie scoffed. “I’m nice, he’s just a pushover.”

“Uh huh,” Olivia said, pulling back so she could grin up at David. “Can we watch movies and play board games tonight?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Only if the movie has Robin Williams.”

“ _Alladin?”_ she said hopefully, and he nodded. She clapped, bouncing up and down for a second before she turned back around to where Carlos was rounding the corner, right in front of Spot and Evan. “Dad, Uncle Davey said I can watch _Alladin!”_

Spot frowned at David. “I swear to god, if you two end up watching reality TV again…”

David held up his right hand. “I learned my lesson after she called someone a skank.”

“You still didn’t tell me what it means,” Olivia grumbled, and Carlos rolled his eyes.

Crutchie cleared his throat. “Guys, the receptionist lady’s glaring at us.”

David and Spot made quick eye contact, sensing office supply danger, and everyone grabbed a child’s hand-- or if you were Spot, simply picked up his son like he only weighed five pounds-- and evacuated.

“Uncle Davey?” Olivia asked, swinging her hand back and forth as it clutched at David’s.

“Yeah?”

“Can we stop by the corner store and get ice cream bars?”

He smiled at her. “I’d say yes, but your dad might say no.”

Olivia stuck out her bottom lip. “Pleeaase, Dad?” Spot rubbed his temples.

“Hon, we have greek yogurt at home..” Spot gave her a firm look when tugged on the back of Carlos’s shirt so he’d join in.

“C’mon, Dad, please?” Carlos pleaded, and Spot frowned.

“Young man, I think you’re old enough to be above begging.”

“Bold of you to assume I age,” Carlos said, and Spot stopped dead in his tracks, almost giving Evan whiplash.

“What does tha--” a terrified Spot turned to David. “Davey, what does that _mean?”_

David cackled, and Olivia wrinkled her nose up at Spot. “See, Dad, this is proof. Dads are mean, uncles and aunts are fun.”

“What am I?” Crutchie said again, and Olivia squinted at him.

“A… you’re our Charlie.”

Crutchie just blinked and sighed. “Y’all make less sense every day.”

Evan, who had up to that moment clung onto the conversation and his father’s shoulder, spoke up. “Miss Karen went on a purple plane on Sunday!”

“Miss Karen was on ecstasy on Sunday,” Spot muttered, then blanched. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

 

“Alright,” Crutchie said, not even looking up from sketching on an old receipt. “So one’s goodbye and one’s love.”

“Pretty much,” David said, generously deciding to help out the wine bottle Spot had been keeping in the back of his pantry for a special occasion. “And _your choice_ written on the paper bouquet holder thingie.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, and feeling an uncomfortable number of eyes on him, he looked up.

Crutchie was staring deadpan at him. “Dude.”

“Yes?”

“He’s letting you choose between the two. Giving you the reins. Whatever you wanna call it.”

David blinked and tried to fake confident. “I… knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Spot walked in, fresh off bribing his children. “What’s the news?”

“Davey’s a dumbass. Jack’s letting him choose whether or not they get back together.”

“Okay, s--” Spot cut off sharply and glared at David. “Is that my special occasion wine?”

“It cost you like ten dollars at Trader Joe’s, calm down,” Crutchie said, smiling too wide for his tone to be rude. Spot snorted and sat down where he could easily see the hallway that lead to the kids’ rooms, crossing his arms.

“So what’s your move? Just a warning, I’m getting tired of this, so it better be something that ends this shit.”

David winced, and Spot waved one hand. “I mean like.. Come to a conclusion. Date him, don’t date him, Lord knows I’m bad at the whole thing. I can’t give advice.”

Crutchie made a mock offended face. “Excuse you, Mr. I’m bad at dating. Do you think so little of me?”

Spot wasn’t even able to answer, as he was interrupted by all of them laughing and David passing over the bottle of wine to Crutchie.

In a few minutes, the bottle had made several cycles, and they were all laughing, joking around, quieting for a moment when Spot shushed them, and then laughing again and repeating the cycle.

Eventually, David tipped his head back, wrinkling his nose when the wall seemed to appear out of nowhere to cause him pain. “What am I gonna do?”

“Make a decision,” Crutchie said unsteadily, finishing the bottle and setting it down. “Follow your heart, or some shit.”

“Your heart, not your dick,” Spot clarified, and Crutchie nodded, like Spot had blessed David with wisdom unattainable by mortals.

“And make the right decision,” Crutchie said. “Spot made bad decisions a bunch of times, and now he’s got three kids.”

“My kids are awesome!” Spot waved one hand to enunciate the point, only succeeding in proving that Trader Joe’s wine did not treat him well. “Sure, they’re ragtag and Olivia hasn’t quite figured out how to blend Spanish and English, and Evan’s even whiter than his dad, but they’re _awesome.”_

Crutchie yawned. “Is Olivia still capitalizing weird?”

“Yes!”

David shushed them. “They’re sleeping, stop being mean.”

“She capitalizes the first three months but none of the others! That isn’t how Spanish works!”

David was about to say something really brutal about Spot having no one to blame but himself, but honestly, Carlos had turned out just fine. If Olivia and Evan had grown up more around an actual Spanish-speaking family, they’d be perfectly fine. (Okay, maybe not Evan. David loved the little guy to bits, but he hadn’t heard a language butchered so badly since Les had tried to learn French.) Anyways, David blamed Spot’s family. And there was still a conversation going on.

He tilted his head to crack his neck and sighed. “I don’t know what I should do.”

“You made that pretty damn clear,” Crutchie joked, and when David rolled his eyes, Crutchie metaphorically sobered. “So does this change anything?”

David tapped his foot at a walking pace, the little part of his brain reserved for getting songs stuck in his head not sure if he was thinking about “Stayin’ Alive” or high school band, as he tried to figure out the answer. “I think so. I… I mean… I don’t know.”

Crutchie frowned. “Do you love him?”

David nodded slowly, and Crutchie raised his eyebrows. “Do you wanna be with him?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“Then be with him.”

“It’s not that simple,” David said, looking down, and when Spot spoke, it was quiet, gentler than usual.

“But it is.” David tried to wrestle his mind around the idea, around the thought that he wanted to be with Jack, so he could be.

He looked up in time to see Spot shrug.

“I’m not you, I can’t say what you want. But you said you love him, not me.”

 

Jack had thought that once he had reached his late twenties, he should have safely been a functioning adult.

Well, that foolish, younger version of him who had believed in fables like him ever being able to mature was _wrong as shit._

He managed to get another few sketchy lines out before he stood up and checked his phone again, throwing it on to the couch and returning to his sketchbook when it didn’t show a notification.

Anthony walked by, picking up his keys from the bowl near the door. “I’m gonna head out-- big school board meeting. We might actually get money for supplies.”

Jack smiled in spite of himself. “Kick ass!”

“Oh, I will.” Anthony paused at the door, then said, “Good luck? With Davey and all.”

Jack kept smiling, but it became a little bittersweet. He’d loved two guys in the past year-- both who were willing to put aside their own feelings so that they could all end up happier in the end. “I don’t deserve either of you.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “It isn’t your choice whether you deserve someone. They choose what’s right for them, not you.”

He left without another word, and Jack sat there for a moment, letting himself think over the statement, before he returned to his sketches.

He went on like that for a while, switching between his sketchbook and his latest commission, trying to puzzle out in his mind his problems as his shirt progressively got more and more covered in paint.

So he loved David. That was pretty clear to him. But if David didn’t love him, then obviously he’d be okay with just being friends, or vanishing from his life, or running away to Switzerland, because the thing that mattered more than him loving David was that he didn’t hurt David again, and that they were able to start a healthier relationship than their last one.

Which Jack really thought was a very mature train of thought.

He wiped off his hands frantically when his phone started ringing, his pulse slowing down when Medda’s voice came through instead of anyone else’s.

“Jack, honey, are you busy?”

He frowned. “Not really, what’s up?”

“Just checking in, I wanted to make sure you and Anthony are alright.”

“I think we’re okay. He seems to be doing alright, keeping himself busy. We’re thinking about whether one of us wants to move out, or if we’ve got the money for that.”

He could practically hear the slight sound of her necklaces bumping together as she nodded. “And how’s David?”

“Mom.”

“I’m just asking!”

He sighed. “I gave him flowers and I gave him the choice of whether or not we start a relationship or not and I’m waiting for him to make a decision.”

She hummed quietly. “You love him?”

“Absolutely.”

He wished she was sitting right in the room with her, just so he could see the smile that he’d known for years.

They sat in silence for a while, Jack straining to hear the ticking of Medda’s old clock in the background of the call. Eventually, Medda spoke. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

At that moment, his phone buzzed, and he bolted up. “Can I call you back?”

She laughed. “Of course.”

He hung up and opened up his texts, his pulse racing again.

_Davey: hey!_

_Davey: was that exclamation point too excited_

_Davey: wait fuck i meant to send that second text to Sarah_

_Davey: I*_

_Davey: sorry for spamming you_

_Davey: I’m just going to.. stop_

Jack laughed despite his nerves, covering his mouth with his hand. _God, I love him._

_Jack: its fine calm down skskskkssksk_

_Davey: got it_

_Davey: so do you want to meet somewhere or.._

Jack looked over to his sketchbook, to his sketch of David in a three-quarter view, smiling slightly and holding a single camellia.

_Jack: spots shop sound good?_

_Davey: yeah, see you there?_

Jack looked down to his clothes, a paint-stained shirt and his shittiest pants and two mismatched _Toy Story_ socks.

_Jack: gimme like uhhhhhhhhhh 45 minutes_

_Davey: okay?_

Jack exhaled slowly. He was going to be alright. Everything was going to be fine, no matter what happened.

But he needed to change before anything could happen. A _Tom and Jerry_ t-shirt covered in pink paint wasn’t exactly the kind of look he was going for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL. YALL ARE ACTUALLY GETTING A CONCLUSION TO THIS DUMB SHIT IN THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS. THE FINAL TWO CHAPTERS. GODDAMN, FOLKS!  
> look at me... getting off my ass and writing  
> anyways! that was just a quick little thing to prepare for the next chapter! yall are gonna have to bear with me while i write that, its probably gonna take a little bit. and then theres the epilogue and we're done!  
> (just a warning-- theres gonna be a MASSIVE amount of end notes on the epilogue, some about what i plan on writing next, and some just me rambling. anyways.)  
> i love spots kids. i love medda. i wrote this in like 3 days. its kinda short. i hope you liked it anyways!!!  
> i hope you have a lovely day!!!! comment and ill owe u the orange gummies from my most recent Experimental Costco Purchase


	15. Oh Boy... There We Go Man.... Second-To-Last Chapter? Goddamn Here We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk, and things go from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, you angels, have this. i had LITERALLY NO writers block on this so it went lightning fast and yknow what? here, take it, so i can get a start on ch 16 over the weekend!!!!! hell yeah!!!!!!! productivity!!!!!!!!

David tapped his foot just a little too fast as he spoke. “So what can I do for you?”

The girl grinned, like she had too much energy flowing through her and the only way she could get it out was to exude as much positivity as possible. “Okay. Okay, uh. I need flowers.”

He resisted the urge for a pointed  _ no shit  _ and instead smiled. “Any colors, types, occasions?”

“Well, uh, I want to propose to my girlfriend.” She bounced on her toes, and David held back a laugh, rolling his hand for her continue. She beamed, and everything seemed to come spilling out of her mind at the same time. “I’m graduating college in just a little bit, and I want to propose to her that night, as we move on to the next step of our lives. We’re getting dinner together that night, so I was planning on asking her as we’re walking home!”

Two things hit David’s thoughts at the same time. One, this girl seemed like what David might have been with Jack back in college if they’d made it to the end of the year. And two, he wasn’t sure what the chances were, since there were God-and-Google knew how many people in New York City, but there was a mild chance that the world’s most unconsciously coordinated couple lived near Spot’s shop.

He talked with her for a while about flowers, what she wanted, until the doorbell rang and Jack stepped in.

David nearly fainted right then and there.

He’d seen Jack recently, obviously. He’d seen him in suits and pants that were probably pajamas and everything in between. But it was the first time in years that David was able to look at Jack and really know that he could have him. He could kiss Jack Kelly without feeling guilty, and the feeling of that was almost too much.

Jack smiled, half hopeful, towards him from across the room, and David almost swooned. “Hey, Flower Nerd, take over?”

“Are you ever going to learn my name?”

“Sorry,” David mumbled, and the kid rolled his eyes before taking over, and David yanked a thumb at the workroom. Jack followed easily, and as soon as David closed the door behind him, Jack exhaled slowly.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Jack looked around them, his eyes finally settling on David’s face. “So you looked up the flowers?”

David had to keep himself from beaming or kissing Jack right that instant. “Yeah, I did.”

Jack’s smile became a little more confident. “And?” he asked, shifting towards David in a way so clearly designed to seem casual that if David had been a stranger, he would have thought didn’t involve any second thought.

He couldn’t stop his smile from nearly cracking his face in half that time, and Jack’s eyes crinkled when he smiled too, already knowing the answer.

Logical David said that hey, he should say the actual answer. Even more logical David said that Jack already knew the answer, and it had been almost six years since he could kiss him.

So logical David stepped aside for a second to let David who just wanted to be happy decide.

 

Jack had admittedly been nervous as hell. He had started out the day looking like his outfit had been chosen from the Walgreens bargain bin by someone blindfolded and with their hands covered in paint, and then he had tried his best to look like he looked good but didn’t care that he looked good.

(David had mastered that somehow, in a way Jack didn’t understand. David cared, clearly, about how he looked, and how people thought of him. He talked about it, he worried about it, everything. But when he walked out to face the day, all Jack could see was that amidst all the clothes and the hair and the shoes and the manners that had caring about what everyone thought woven into their seams, David’s smile shone out as the only thing that despite being the first sign that he cared about people, it was the first thing that showed that he didn’t care what they thought of him. Maybe Jack needed a little bit more of that.)

And then he’d seen David, and even when David had smiled, there was still that little fear in the back of Jack’s head that things wouldn’t work out. And then they were standing there in the workroom, surrounded by flowers and boxes and spools of ribbon and paper and more flowers. And as awful as it had seemed, Jack had had a fleeting thought about how ironic it would be to get his heart broken in a room that pretty.

But he was kissing David Jacobs, and in that moment, those previous fleeting thoughts were replaced by a stronger idea, rooting in his mind and taking place there. If David Jacobs kept kissing him, he decided, it’d be a very long time until either of them ever had their hearts broken again.

Jack pulled back, just a fraction of an inch, to talk. “So that’s--”

“Yes,” David mumbled, pulling Jack back down to kiss him again, trying to work in the words. “Yes, god, of course.” 

He kissed him again, and David raced to put a word in each little gap.

“Forget-me-nots were--” he stopped to kiss Jack, his fingers playing with the shorter hairs at the nape of Jack’s neck. “They were true love, and cyclamens--” he broke off to press a kiss to Jack’s jaw. “They were goodbye, or some shit.”

“Definitely shit,” Jack decided out loud, inhaling sharply as David smiled brightly up at him. “No goodbyes. The camellias?”

Everything ground to a halt as David froze. “Wait, those meant something too?”

Jack paused, momentarily unsure what to make of the confusion, and then he broke out laughing. “Pink camellias, Davey. They mean  _ longing for you.” _

David laughed, and Jack was only able to wonder if it was at himself or the world for just a second before David went back on the tips of his toes to kiss him.

 

They’d fashioned makeshift chairs out of boxes before they had given up and just sat on the floor, trying to have a serious conversation and then Jack getting bored of it and kissing David and that would last for a while and then it would start again until they’d spent (not wasted, spent,) at least an hour trying to figure out how to have a conversation.

Finally, they managed to get around to it. David held his hands out as a kind of barrier, still breathing quick, and closed his eyes. “Okay, something to say.”

“Shoot.”

He tried to figure out if the words made sense anywhere else than his head. “I don’t want this to be… fast.”

Jack cocked his head, drumming his fingers on the floor. “Okay?”

“I just… I don’t want to start where we left off, or whatever. I want to just… start over. We’re different people, things are different.” Jack nodded slowly, and David smiled down at his hands. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“Davey.” He looked up, and Jack was smiling too, his hand moving forward to rest on David’s knee. “It makes sense. New us, new start, all that. It’s good with me.”

David covered Jack’s hand with his own, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Thank you,” he said quietly against Jack’s lips, and Jack sat back to be able to look into his eyes.

“Never thank me for loving you. I’ve been doing that for a while.”

(How the hell was David supposed to resist that?)

 

David lived, one could say, a full life. Everything he did was filled to the brim with friends and family and love, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. But he also loved simple things-- things that just made him happy, whether they stayed or not.

Frozen yogurt was one of those things.

“You’re a basic bitch,” Sarah teased as he watched strawberry yogurt fall into his waxy cardboard happiness vessel.

“You’re going to die of chocolate overdose,” he said, poking her shoulder as she added a third different kind of chocolate yogurt to her cup.

“I’m going to die happy,” Sarah said, moving on to the dry toppings, and David followed her. “So, I assume by your splurging on dark chocolate chips that everything went well with Jack?”

(David decided that he deserved another spoonful of chocolate chips to make up for having to talk about his love life with his sister.)

She gathered as much as she wanted to from his smile, and gasped, delighted. “Get some!”

“Sarah,  _ no.  _ We just worked things out.”

“And kissed.”

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying the statement, so Sarah pressed on. “So you made out.”

“Whatever makes you stop talking about this near little kids,” he said, but he knew she could hear the tip up at the end of the word that always told her he wasn’t really mad.

He zoned out for a moment, scooping fresh(ish) strawberry slices on his yogurt and adding One Single Brownie Chunk on top before he covered the whole thing in whipped cream and then tuned back into what Sarah was saying.

“And since you and Kathy are the ones with actual money, I will be expecting you to pay for both of us. Mama’s got a business to run, she can’t afford things her brother could just pay for.”

He blinked. “I have my own business, Saz. Les is the odd one out, not me.”

“Yeah, but rich people give you lots of money. Rich people don’t tip bakers.”

“That’s… fair.”

“Damn right. Anyways, have you talked to Medda recently? She’s got this dope as hell little Off-Broadway show going on at her theater, and I’ve been wanting to check it out, but I’ll need her opinion on where to sit to actually see everything going on.”

Those were the last words he really registered as he paid and then walked out of the building with Sarah, back into the city with yogurt and his sister and a mind full of a few too many tiny little dreams about what the future might be like.

 

_ Ratatouille  _ was on, but Jack and Katherine had lost the ability to pay attention to anything around them. Katherine was chatting away about Sarah and how Katherine wanted to take her to Boston for a few days to visit all the places that she and Jack had loved in college, and Jack was sketching her. It was rare that he got a chance like that to draw her-- when she didn’t look self-conscious, and she didn’t even realize he was drawing her, she just sat there, talking and beaming and not caring about her hair falling in front of her face and she waved her hands around and gushed.

“So would you and Davey want to come with us if we did that?” she asked eventually, and Jack looked up from his sketchbook.

“Wait, what?”

She blinked, clearly confused. “You and Davey? Considering that you’re back together?”

He nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth turning up as he remembered it again. “Just kinda forgot.” Katherine giggled, and he smiled down at his sketchbook before he took a second to think. “And maybe not. We wanna take things slow, y’know? Start over so we know who we are as like…”

“A couple,” Katherine filled in, and he nodded.

“Yeah, knowing who we are know that both of us are different people than we were. So maybe no vacation together yet.”

She grinned. “Good with me. It’ll give us more time to ourselves without having to track you idiots down when you get lost.”

“Hey, I’m like a fucking pigeon, leave me alone!”

“A pigeon, so dumb and can’t find his way back to a hotel?” she laughed, and he frowned.

“No, actually, pigeons have incredible senses of direction and are far more intelligent than we give them credit for.”

She cocked her head. “Tell me more, Davey.”

He went red, and she cackled as he spluttered out excuses for his pigeon knowledge that didn’t have to do with David. 

“I just… I just think that, that they’re cool!” he managed, and she laughed even harder. He scowled, trying his best to keep himself from breaking the act and smiling.

“Just… shut up.”

Katherine managed to get over her fit of laughter. “I think--” she giggled, and started over. “I think it’s cute. You love him so much you listen to his pigeon information.”

He grumbled, and she smiled softly.

Katherine had always been able to read Jack like a book, but in that moment, it wasn’t just one-way. They both got caught up in a swirl of loving people and loving each other and loving that they got to be on Earth at the same time as the best people they knew.

“You love him,” she said softly, happiness filling up her voice like honey in a mason jar.

He smiled despite himself, looking down at the page covered in Katherine and David and bunches of forget-me-nots. “Yeah, I do.”

 

David was packing up when he heard two girls giggling, turning around to see Rafaela and the other girl from before.

He pointed at them, feeling himself grin. “I knew it!”

They both broke into laughter again, and Rafaela shoved her hand forward, a ring around her finger. “Look!”

He whistled, and pointed at the other. “You have good taste in jewelry. And, uh, your name is…”

She laughed brightly. “Joey.”

“Joey,” he said to himself. “Do you two want a wedding planner?”

Rafaela wrinkled her nose. “We can’t really afford it.”

“College me sympathizes. Well, if you need help making decisions,” he burrowed through his pockets for a business card before giving up and scribbling his email onto a tissue and handing it to them. “Email me, I’m awesome at choosing things.”

Joey gave him a little mock salute. “Will do. Is Spot in? We actually came to see him.”

David nodded towards the storage room. “And congratulations!”

They both beamed and waved, and David shoved his last folder in a box, sighing in relief.

The doorbell rang again as the door opened, and Jack walked forward, taking the box right out of David’s arms.

“You’re moving too slow, c’mon.”

David grinned despite himself. “What, do you have somewhere to be.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “No, smartass, you do. Les, remember?”

“He won’t mind if we’re late. He’s three years late.”

 

“Davey!” Les yelled, running forward and getting trapped in a bear hug. “Dude, let go!”

“No fucking way,” David grumbled. “You left me for Spain.”

Les cackled. “Not Spain.”

David pulled back, holding him at an arm’s length and glaring up at him. “You’re a bitch and the worst.”

Les shrugged, faking modest. “It’s my talent. You have your raging narcissism, I have my awfulness.”

“And I have my incredible attractive… ness,” Jack added, and Les startled like he hadn’t even realized that someone else was there.  
“Holy shit, Jack! Are you two back together?”

David laughed, which Les took as a yes, and he gasped. “Deets. Now, assholes.”

“You’d know if you hadn’t left for… Belgium.”

“Not Belgium.”

David groaned. “You really are the worst.”

“Yeah, but at least I got my midlife crisis over early. You’ve been having one ever since twenty-two,” Les joked, and then cocked his head, smiling wryly where Jack was resting his cheek on top of David’s head. “Y’know what, though? Maybe you’ve seen the light.”

David laughed, turning and leaning up to kiss Jack quickly. Les gagged, seemingly genuinely.

“I should’ve stayed in Switzerland,” he groaned, and David yanked back from Jack suddenly.

“IT WAS SWITZERLAND!”

Les buried his face in his hands. “Son of a bitch.”

Jack laughed, pressing a kiss on the top of David’s head. “C’mon, Sarah’s got pie coming out of the oven in an hour.”

This was right, David decided. He’d put the puzzle pieces together, and they’d make a messy kind of happiness that he figured could only come from love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO.  
> THE EPILOGUE, AND THEN ITS OVER.   
> ill save all my feelings for the epilogue notes, but guys. wowza.  
> thats that! if you leave me a comment, ill owe you one of the various worn-out erasers i had to remove from my mechanical pencil taking notes in rehearsal, and maybe go rb the post for this on my tumblr, @penzyroamin!  
> thank you for reading, have a lovely day!!!! <3


	16. The Very Potter Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck okay. so this is done. enjoy. im going to go ramble in the end notes.

“Davey, what the fuck kind of bullshit did you just put in my cart?”

“It’s heart healthy,” David said, clearly trying to seem already bored with the conversation but still smiling. “And you’ll like it, too.”

“Dave, I will not like--” Jack picked up the box to shake it for emphasis. “ _Whole grain wheat Triscuits._ Normal Triscuits or no Triscuits, Davey.”

“You see, this is why Medda tells me to make you eat healthy,” he said, putting them back on the shelf with a sigh and taking another box.

Jack clicked his tongue. “Davey.”

“Jack, you can’t possibly taste a difference between normal and low sodium. They taste the goddamn same.”

Jack made an offended noise in the back of his throat. “They’re completely different, which you would know if you had my unique taste.”

“Unique’s one word for it.”

Jack gasped, faking offended, pulling David towards him and looking closely into his eyes. “Say that again,” he whispered, trying to be serious until they both started laughing.

“Guys, this is so fucking gross.”

They turned away from the Triscuits to see Anthony raising his eyebrows, his arms crossed and a pint of ice cream in one hand.

Jack recovered before David could, pressing a dramatic kiss to his cheek and reaching for the ice cream. “What’d you get?”

Anthony pulled his arm away. “Brownie chunk, get back. It’s mine.”

David and Jack made identical disappointed sounds, and Anthony rolled his eyes. “Davey, you literally don’t live with us. Buy your own ice cream.”

“But what am I supposed to eat when I’m over there?”

“Not my ice cream,” Anthony offered, at the same time that Jack said, “Triscuits.”

David sighed. “See, this is why I do movie nights with Kath and Saz. Your apartment is a nightmare.”

“You know it, babe,” Jack says, reveling for a second in the fact that he could say that. “Besides, you actually get to watch the movie with Kathy and Sarah.”

Anthony tilted his head. “Would it kill either one of you to say both of their actual names?”

“Yes,” David said, seeming gravely serious. “Race, I’d keel over.”

Anthony shook his head, clearly joking but carrying that teacher vibe that made you so terrified to let him down.

“Jack’s getting to you.”

Jack gasped, putting on hand on his chest. “Are you blaming _me_ for Davey’s rising tolerance for ridiculous shit and for him progressively getting less formal?”

Anthony blinked slowly. “Uh… yes.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fair then, okay.”

 

“C’mon, please?”

David sighed, trying not to laugh. “I’ve got a date, kiddo.”

“Well, he’s not as good as me!”

David’s mouth dropped open. “Evan, you get more like your siblings every day.”

“Please stay!”

David hoisted Evan up a few feet to his level. “I’ve already got the table reserved, I can’t flake.”

“You can!”

“No, it’s mean. And I like Jack, so I want to see him.”

Evan groaned, tapping his hand on David’s arm until he set him down. “You see him _all the time.”_

“And I see you too, bud.”

Evan pouted. “But all Charlie does is read to me and be mushy with Dad!”

David squatted down. “You want a spy mission?” Evan nodded rapidly, and David lowered his voice to a whisper. “Write down all the gross nicknames Charlie calls your dad and then give me the list.” He shushed Evan dramatically, and Evan giggled as Spot walked into the room.

“Jesus, is Jack here yet? Get out, Davey, I'm serious. Nice suits make me nervous.”

“Oh, ha ha. He’ll be here soon, I was just convincing Evan to not give you he--” he paused, remembering the presence of a child, then tried to continue, “--eeeeck. Heck.”

Spot sighed. “Smooth.”

“What’s smooth?” Evan asked, and Spot flinched.

“Nothing, buddy. Hey, why don’t you go check on Olivia? She’s getting ice cream from the freezer.”

Evan cheered and raced off as fast as his tiny, non-proportionate, little kid legs could take him, and Spot immediately collapsed onto the couch. “Dave, I’m so tired.”

“Just eat some ice cream and stick a movie in, then go debate socioeconomic stuff with Crutchie, or whatever you two talk about.”

“I just want a glass of wine and _Sense and Sensibility,”_ Spot groaned, and David patted him on the back.

“Sorry,” he said, unable to keep a slight laugh out of the word. Spot glared at him.

“No, you aren’t.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve got a nice night planned, don’t ruin it.”

 

“They’ve seen worse,” Jack said, his hands held up defensively.

“I said semi-formal, Jack! Semi-formal!”

Jack was silent for a second. “This.. is my nicest flannel.”

“Oh my god,” David muttered into his hands. “I’m dating a hooligan.”

“Don’t know why you expected more from me, frankly.”

David said something too quiet for Jack to hear, and he was willing to be content with that. They reached David’s apartment, Jack turning on his phone for light so David could unlock the door. He opened it and turned around, smiling at Jack in a way that still managed to take his breath away.

“Well, if it does anything to repair it, my, uh, state of disarray, just made you look nicer,” Jack offered, stepping forward to kiss David softly. David pulled back for a second, grinning despite his battle to seem upset.

“That doesn’t make up for _everything,”_ he said, almost petulant, and Jack laughed, trying to keep quiet in order to avoid a repeat of the incident where an old woman in the apartment next to David’s had thought he was a burglar.

“Well, what _would?”_ Jack asked, tracing his thumbs over the edges of David’s jaw.

David grinned, pulling Jack down so he could kiss him.

After a while of them standing, rooted in the doorway, like if they stayed there long enough they could seep into the floor and stay there forever, David smiled, breaking the kiss.

“That.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jack said, grinning nonetheless as David pulled him inside and shut the door.

“And yet, you manage to love me anyways.”

 

When you don’t eat any meat except fish, and your friends are close to being considered carnivores, you learn how to do things yourself. And so, David has built himself a fairly respectable knowledge of how to not burn things, and how to make healthy things taste decent.

“This,” Jack said, his mouth still full, “is like crack, but a waffle.”

David wasn’t going to mention the whole wheat flour, or the surprising lack of sugar, or that he had snuck strawberries in for a serving of fruit. He was just going to add it to the list of healthy things he had managed to get Jack to do and continue on with his life.

Jack squinted at the waffle, all of a sudden suspicious.

“Davey, what’s the pink stuff?”

Normally, David would have panicked. Lesser, weaker men would have panicked when faced with explaining to a junk food addict why there was fruit in their perfectly respectable junk food breakfast.

But David was fully prepared, and he knew Jack too well.

“Maraschino cherries,” he said smoothly, and Jack grinned, shoveling another forkful (was that a word? David would Google it,) into his mouth.

“I love you,” Jack mumbled around his deceptively healthy waffles.

“I love you, too.”

Yeah, David was the best boyfriend ever.

 

The day was otherwise innocuous, and gave Jack no hint that it was going to emotionally exhaust him.

They were watching a movie, some semi-old con drama that Jack was only mildly engaged in, and most of his focus was zeroed in on where David was frowning and occasionally taking notes.

Eventually, David spoke up. “This is a shit movie.”

“Then why are we watching it?”

“I can’t fucking figure out how they did it, and Spot always can. It pisses me off, so I’m leaning.”

Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Only you’re that petty.”

“You know it,” David said, smiling at him for a second and casting a glance down at Jack’s sketchbook, laying open on the couch. “If you want to transfer that I’ve got an easel set up for you in the guest room.”

Jack jolted up. “Really?”

David smiled and shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and like Jack wasn’t close to having a stroke over the fact that he officially had a place, he had a little niche carved out in David’s life and heart and home.

“I’ve got a drawer for your socks, too. You keep putting holes in mine.”

Jack blinked rapidly, trying really hard to not start crying into David’s shoulder. “Cool. Awesome. And I’ll make you a pants drawer, because mine are too long.”

David smiled widely. “Sounds good.”

It was okay that he was spending his Saturday watching a shitty con movie, because he was watching it with David.

 

“Welcome to the Brunch Of Childless People,” Sarah said solemnly, then took a too-large drink of her mimosa and immediately sat down. “Okay, what’s the news?”

David pushed raspberries around with his fork so they would make a sort of starburst pattern on his plate. “Crutchie is officially kicked out as of yesterday.”

“He was a brave soldier,” Katherine said, nodding slowly and then shoving french toast in her mouth.

“How’s he doing, anyway?” Jack asked, and Sarah held a hand up.

“No. No no no. We don’t talk about traitors here.”

Jack laughed, seeming incredulous. “What even happened?”

David sighed, still trying to work out in mind how his world had turned upside down. “Spot added him to his kid’s emergency contacts in case he isn’t available if they get sick at school.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jack asked, and Katherine shook her head.

“Thank god, you get it.”

“I don’t, at all, but proceed, I guess.”

“Thanks. So Crutchie’s gone, Jack, Davey, I assume that you two are still too chaotic to keep children safe?” They both nodded. “Great. And Kathy and I just don’t want kids, so everyone is safe as long as Jack keeps almost drinking paint water.” Sarah held up her glass. “Cheers.”

 

“Crutchie, I might die,” Jack said over the phone, and Crutchie groaned.

“If I have to deal with your relationship one more time, I will die, and then no one will be there to pick up Olivia from rehearsal tomorrow. Just a warning.”

“Being a pseudo-father has ruined you.”

“Wow, thanks. But seriously, dude, spill or I’m hanging up and going back to this veil.”

“Okay, remember when Spot called you something in Spanish and you weren’t sure if it was good or bad and your pronunciation is so shit that I don’t even know what you said based on your recreation of it but you still nearly exploded right then and there?” He heard Crutchie hum contemplatively for a moment.

“I could scrounge up some memories of that, yeah.”

Jack tried to speak, but words didn’t come out of his mouth for a second. “Yiddish is hot.”

“I highly doubt that a language as a whole is hot.”

“Davey speaking Yiddish is hot.” The line went silent, and Jack frowned.

“Crutchie?”

“Yeah, uh, I’m gonna let you deal with that one. This veil is more important than you thinking that seemingly everything Davey does is hot.”

Jack sighed, dragging his hand over his face. “But it’s Davey who does it, so it’s hot.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Traitor,” Jack said to the empty air, and threw his phone back down on his pillow. Technically. He bought it, but it was inside David’s apartment because David stole it.

And David was in the living room talking to his mom, which was annoying because it showed just how much David loved and cared about his family, but also because Jack wanted to kiss him and he couldn’t because he had to talk with Esther but he was talking in Yiddish and then Jack just wanted to kiss him more and basically Jack was trapped in a cruel, vicious cycle.

Take notes, people. That’s what happened when you had a boyfriend who was nice _and_ attractive.

 

David had a lot of things in life that he considered to be better than average, especially skills that he had. (Not to toot his own horn, but he liked to think he was pretty good at stuff. Toot toot.)

But quite possibly his most incredible skill, the one that people should have been coming from far and wide, was his ability to choose a good boyfriend.

David had woken up at five in the morning to take Sarah and Katherine to the airport, and Jack hadn’t moved a muscle. He’d gotten dressed, brushed his teeth, ate a quick breakfast, and nothing. There were times in his life that he looked at Jack and wondered if he’d ever wake up again.

“Okay, so you have everything?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Liquids in the bag, lots of books, backup headphones, snacks, the whole nine yards.”

“I just worry,” he said defensively, sparing a smile for Katherine, who was far less hostile in the morning.

Katherine smiled back, stepping forward to hug David tightly. “I’ll get her there safe, don’t worry.”

“And get her back. Please get her back. Don’t let her scream at the flight attendant, either, you know we both get plane ner--” he was cut off by Katherine putting a hand over his mouth, and had a fleeting idea of licking her palm before resolutely deciding that he spent too much time with Spot’s kids.

“I will do everything in my power to make sure Sarah doesn’t have a panic attack,” Katherine said, and David sighed.

“Don’t be above getting her drunk. It’s easier when she’s drunk, she just cries and then passes out.”

Katherine blinked. “You guys must be fun on boats.”

Sarah scoffed, picking up on the not at all concealed fact that they were talking about her. “God made the ocean for whales, not me.”

“Thanks for that very relevant detail,” David said, and Sarah shot him an awkward finger-gun before resuming trying to sleep on the bench.

Katherine smiled at her, and shook her head slowly. “She says the weirdest things.”

“She’s got a lot of opinions,” David said, and Katherine laughed.

“I’ve got opinions, lots of them. I don’t think straight girls should be legally allowed to say the word girlfriend, but you don’t see me barging into vegan restaurants to say that.”

“You should, babe,” Sarah said drowsily from the bench, and David grimaced.

“Don’t let her have caffeine,” he hissed to Katherine, who gave him a thumbs-up before kissing him on the cheek and pushing him in the direction of the waiting doors.

He made his way back to his apartment, opening the door and checking quietly to see if Jack had woken up. He hadn’t, so David changed clothes and went on a run, staying out longer than usual to give Jack time to wake up on his own.

He came back, and Jack was still out cold. So he fed Charlotte and Cordelia breakfast, took a shower, then changed again into his laying around clothes, then did a load of laundry, then switched it to the dryer, and still nothing.

David sometimes wondered how Race survived, living with a person who wouldn’t wake up if you poured water on his head.

He started making breakfast, and it seemed that the smell of eggs was what it took for Jack to finally wake up.

“Are those for me?” Jack asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and pushing his hair out of his face.

David laughed. “Very polite.”

“Sorry, Dave.” There was a moment of comfortable silence, and then Jack said, “So I guess they aren’t? That’s cool, I can make cornflakes.”

“Christ, of course they’re for you.”

Jack beamed. “You’re the best.”

“I know, you tell me every time I make you breakfast.”

“Because you are.”

“Okay, sure, Jackie.”

Jack swatted his shoulder. “Nope, say it. Accept it.”

David sighed, handing a plate of eggs to Jack. “I’m the best.”

His smile got impossibly wider. “Damn right.”

 

“I ate a dragonfruit yesterday,” Jack said, which wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be able to say.

Medda gasped, and he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “Really?”

“Yeah, Davey bought one at some market.”

Medda shook her head, smiling. “That boy is a godsend, doing my job for me.”

Jack smiled down at his plate, debating whether to say something before David came back. “He, uh, he asked me to move in with him.”

She looked up, her expression balanced and calm. “What’d you say?”

“I asked if I could have some time to think about it,” Jack said, and Medda nodded.

“And what do you think?”

He allowed himself a little private smile. “It makes sense, I think. Now that Anthony’s moving out, rent would suck, so that’d be nice. And it’s been almost two years, we’re ready.”

He looked up, and Medda was smiling softly. “And?” she prompted, and Jack bit the inside of his cheek.

“And I love him. I want to live with him, I’m gonna marry him some day.”

Medda squeezed his hand. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Good. I’m going to go get dessert, alright?”

Jack nodded, and David slid down into the chair next to him as Medda got up.

“Hi,” he said, pressing a kiss to David’s temple, and David laughed.

“Hey. What were you talking about?”

“How much I love you,” he teased, and David smiled up at him.

“And how much is that?”

Jack pretended to think. “Lots.”

“Good, because I love you lots, too.”

“Sap.”

“Hey, you said it first.”

“Sap with bad grammar.”

“That in itself is a sentence fragment, so pot, kettle.”

Jack sat back, shaking his head. “Do you hate fun, Davey?”

David laughed loudly, and Jack couldn’t help but be reminded that he was seriously the luckiest person in the world.

There were nearly seven and a half billion people on Earth, and Jack fell in love with one of them. And that specific person out of seven and a half billion had loved him back, and now Jack got to wake up and see and kiss and be with him.

He wasn’t sure who he had to thank-- Esther, Anthony, David, God, Vogue. But whoever it was, he wasn’t sure he’d ever repay the debt he owed to whoever made it possible for him to be with David Jacobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay okay. you should probably read these notes if youre at all interested in what else im going to write or if theres any left of this fic to be given to the world. if you dont read them, thank you so much for reading this fic, it means a lot to me, and i hope you enjoyed <3333  
> one-- ive mentioned it before, but im going to be posting some moodboards for the main characters in this on my tumblr, @penzyroamin, in the next week or so, so if you want to see those, check my tumblr out, follow me if you want, and take a look at those when i post them!  
> two-- im not done with this hellpit fandom. ive got quite a few more fics up my sleeves, so i hope youll check them out when i post them!!  
> three-- honestly, thank you all so so much for reading this, and ESPECIALLY the people who commented on it. and the people who commented on most of these chapters, or even all of them?? i love you so much. i wont name all of you but You Know Who You Are And I Love You. (also, ella. ur just.. generally the best. everyone go read her fics shes fantastic.)  
> anyways!!!! if you drop me a comment, i will cry and also owe you one of the various stickers i got at oakland pride today!!! (it as exhilarating, btw. oh my god.) thank you so much for reading this shitshow of a fic, and for sticking with me. i hope you have a lovely day <3

**Author's Note:**

> damn, yall, i know i didnt exactly mention this was a thing that would happen but the idea came to me about a month ago and i couldnt give it up, so here. have it.  
> thisll be 15 chapters long, and so far, my base length for each chapter is 2000 words, but we'll see if that changes. and im shooting for a new chapter a week?? we'll see if i can stick to that. ive got the whole thing planned out for the most part, so thats good!  
> pretty please tell me what you thought!! i THRIVE off of comments, guys.  
> my tumblr is @penzyroamin if you wanna talk to me or see more of my bullshit!!


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